Newspapers - The Great Tragedy, poetry by SmithaV at
Rishabh Sharma

Newspapers – The Great Tragedy


The Great Tragedy

written by: SmithaV



‘No newspaper’, the domestic help says
And I ponder, looking up from my phone
I remember Grandma read
on the grey wicker chair
When her work was done,
her face solemn.

I remember Dad and mom
Bond over the daily news
Over a cup of morning tea
Before the day began
And I remember my favourite uncle
sitting on the patio, his spectacle-

precariously perched on the bridge of his nose
The papers sat like children on his lap
and he’d indulge each of them
Those in his mother’s tongue
given the same attention
As those in the tongue of the colonisers.

‘No newspaper,’ the domestic help repeats
and I look at her drawing a blank.
‘To clean the glass panes, Madam,
line the shelves in the wardrobe, stuff
the shoes to remove bad smell, and for handbags
to keep them fat and in shape,’ she beams with pride.

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