A Winding Stairway

Away from the maddening crowd where the human noise ends

Lies a winding stairway that no one ever descends

Visible to all, yet hard to spot

It leads to a place that demons sought

Deep into the woods, away from sight

There lives a woman who dances in the night

And on the moonlit nights, she dances with a ghost

Her shamanism entices spirits from the coast

No one knows her origin and the cause

Neither she's a witch nor she's an ogre

And listening to her soulful melodies

Countless men have given in to the felonies

Every single man who comes in her sight

Turning into a vicious sod, he either kills or he dies

- Anirudh Bhardwaj

Comments

Just Once In My Life - Part - III

When I woke, the morning light was streaming in through a gap in the curtains. It was 9:45. I reached out instinctively, but the space beside me was empty, the bedsheet cold. “Jhanvi?” I called out softly, scanning the room. No answer. Her bag was gone. The scarf she’d been wearing the night before — gone. Even the faint scent of her perfume seemed to have disappeared into the air. A tightness grew in my chest as I checked the terrace, the bathroom, the corridors outside. She was nowhere. It felt as if the night before had been a dream — one of those vivid ones that leave you unsettled when you wake. A knock broke the silence. When I opened the door, a housekeeping guy stood there holding a tray. “Miss Jhanvi asked me to give you this breakfast,” he said with a polite nod. On the tray was a simple but comforting spread: hot aloo parathas with a square of butter melting slowly on top, a small bowl of curd, tangy mango pickle, and a steel kettle of masala chai. He walked in, set the tray...

Just Once In My Life - Part - II

The night air in Jodhpur had that peculiar weight to it - cool, yet laced with the faint warmth of the day that lingered in the sandstone walls. We were sitting on the terrace of RAAS, the kind of place where the Mehrangarh Fort doesn’t just dominate the skyline — it breathes over you. Lit up in gold, it looked like an ancient guardian watching over the blue city. Jhanvi sat opposite me, elbows resting on the low parapet, a cigarette between her fingers. Except tonight, it wasn’t a cigarette. She took a slow drag, eyes half-closed, then exhaled in lazy swirls that curled and disappeared into the darkness. Without a word, she offered me the joint. “You should try it,” she said, a playful defiance in her tone. I hesitated. I’d never touched the stuff before. But something about her — her restlessness, her untamed energy — made refusal impossible. I took it, awkwardly mimicking her grip, and inhaled far too quickly. The taste was sharp, unfamiliar, the smoke heavier than I expected. I cou...

Book Launch - The Ghost of Dona Paula

Life is unpredictable and so full of surprises, and sometimes we find it easier to open up to a stranger rather than the people that we trust. Yashasvi is going through the worst phase of her life. After being betrayed by her boyfriend whom she trusted blindly, the world comes crashing down on her when she learns about her parents’ failing marriage. As the cold, hard reality takes a bite of her heart, she decides to embark on a solo trip, in an attempt to escape the ghosts of her past. She arrives in Goa, hoping to leave her troubles behind, but it makes no difference. On the second day, however, she comes across a man who appears to be different from all the men she had known. That sudden encounter with Klaus, a professional scuba diver from Germany gives her a ray of hope as she finally begins to enjoy the little moments in life. Soon she finds herself immeasurably attracted to this man, oblivious of the fact that a terrible fate awaits that would later change the c...

Anirudh Bhardwaj - The official blog | Poems | Short Stories | Articles

Search This Blog