Thank You

Sneha Christall
3 min readMay 10, 2022
Image for representational purpose (via Unsplash)

Leave your education, designation, denomination,

Your bank balance and clout, at the gates

Where uniformed guards pat you down

Wordlessly, before you proceed.

Because, none of it matters once you find yourself in the

Echoless chamber.

Up above, a lone ceiling fan

Creaks heavy with resignation,

Offering little respite to

The bodies huddled underneath,

Clamoring for space

On the slatted wooden benches.

In the great hall nearby, convened

Ordinary humans, tasked with the extraordinary.

Dressed in black garb, white collars,

And an all-important air,

They make a living out of blurring lines,

Molding the truth,

And finding the grey areas

That best suited their agenda.

As time wears on in the echoless chamber,

Exhaustion spills out in a hundred little ways.

While some guard themselves with masks and sanitizer

And a phone to keep their hands busy,

Others’ anger becomes pronounced by

Beating of chests, hurling of curses,

Howling, bawling cries,

Directed at the little old lady,

Dressed in black, seated above the rest,

A pedestal fan beside her.

She looks on in disinterest,

As a lesser mortal escorts

The now weeping individual out.

Another one would be here by tomorrow.

They are a motley crowd and yet,

None are here of their own accord.

Desperation is worn the same by everyone —

Sweat and tears intermingle,

As dreams built not so long ago,

By a younger, more hopeful version of themselves,



Sneha Christall

Wanderer, memory collector. Writer for A Little Bit Better, Be Yourself, Change Becomes You, Hello, Love, Mindfully Speaking and On the Couch.