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Throwback| Ashtha Tiwari


Instagram Handle - @ashtha_sudhanjula


The theme of the poem – We are so busy with the advent of Social media, that we forget to witness some precious moments of life. Here, a girl who is gifted a skirt by her grandmother forgets the importance of a simple gesture of love and remembrance and becomes numb to her emotions.


I wore a crimson skirt yesterday,

The colour was like butter with the slipping of a shutter,

The clicking of the trigger and motion of air,

My skirt suited with the pace of both, it flew and surrounded itself with charismatic vanity,

My hair complimented the idea of a blower and it danced with the rhythm of my inner goddess,

I don’t remember the occasion,

I don’t remember my parent’s gesture, they told me it’s a skirt as old as the last nature visit I did,

The skirt belonged to my grandmother; she danced with its flair and worshipped her immortal childhood,

She uses to adore this skirt as it was her birthday gift,

I don’t believe it because I wasn’t added to her Instagram then; my heart doesn’t ache for this as a legacy of beauty been passed on,

This skirt was out of moderate filters that makes my story beautiful,

The post will seem historical; my followers will feel magical,

Unlimited captions ran into my mind as I framed for my perfect postures,

It was a throwback trend leading attention from the audience.

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That was one such a day, that skirt brought me good luck and my DMs were flourishing with praises,

I don’t remember that skirt anymore,

Maybe it was put to trash after that,

It swiped my memory as fast as my grandmother’s death,

While I was rechecking the maintained feed, I came across a picture,

It said the following which I don’t feel anymore,

The crimson skirt stood glowingly in that frame, without any filter or special beauty trail,

Caption shouting in italics, “Handle this with care.”


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