bhaskar saikia

Some nights feel heavier than others.

Not because something particular happened, but because everything suddenly feels still—too still. The world quiets down, and in that silence, we begin to hear things we usually ignore: our own loneliness, the weight of unanswered questions, and sometimes, the distant echo of someone else’s sorrow.

This poem came to me on such a night.

Melancholic Emptiness

The night is lonely,
Dark and long,
Gusts of wind in eerie randomness
Breaking branches, destroying trees
All in a starless sky.

In this dark vanity,
I hear the sounds of violin;
Floating in the empty space—
Of notes of longing.

Who is this solitary soul
Playing a melancholic song
At this unearthly hour?
Who is this unfortunate loner
Who seems defeated by life,
When life was supposed to be lived?

Loneliness can feel like a private burden—but sometimes, it hums through the air, shared in silence between strangers. And in that shared silence, maybe we’re not as alone as we think.