A House Of Cards (A Dramatic Monologue) Poem by ashok jadhav

(The stage is dim. At center, a fragile structure of cards stands on a small table. One breath, one careless motion, could end it all. A single figure steps forward, eyes fixed on the trembling tower.)
Look at it—
how proudly it stands.
Layer upon layer,
balanced with patience and hope.
From a distance,
it almost looks solid.
Almost permanent.
I built it carefully.
Every card placed with trembling fingers,
every angle tested by faith rather than force.
I told myself, "Be gentle. Be precise."
I believed delicacy was strength.
I believed if I moved slowly enough,
nothing would fall.
How convincing illusion can be.
(He circles the table.)
This was my life once.
A structure of appearances.
Success stacked upon reputation,
reputation leaning on approval,
approval resting on silence.
No storms allowed.
No questions invited.
No truth spoken too loudly.
I told myself it was stability.
I called it achievement.
But deep inside,
I knew—
one careless word,
one unexpected loss,
one honest confession
could bring it all down.
(Pause.)
A house of cards does not collapse loudly.
It whispers as it falls.
A soft flutter.
A brief resistance.
Then—
nothing stands where something once claimed space.
That is how it happened.
Not with a blow,
but with a breath.
One rumor.
One mistake.
One moment of weakness
seen by the wrong eyes.
And suddenly—
the structure I spent years protecting
proved how little protection it had.
(His voice tightens.)
I was angry.
Not at the fall—
but at how easy it was to destroy.
At how little force it took
to undo so much effort.
I shouted at fate,
at people,
at time itself.
"How could it be this fragile? "
I asked.
But the truth waited calmly:
It was fragile
because I built it that way.
(Pause. He looks at his hands.)
I chose speed over foundation.
Image over integrity.
Height over depth.
I stacked praise
where principles should have stood.
I trusted balance
instead of strength.
And when reality leaned in—
not even violently,
just honestly—
everything collapsed.
(He gently knocks the table; the cards fall.)
There.
Gone.
Do you hear that sound?
That is not failure.
That is exposure.
A house of cards does not fall
to punish you—
it falls to reveal you.
(His tone softens.)
In the ruins,
something strange happens.
Relief.
Because pretending takes effort.
Because guarding illusions
is exhausting.
For the first time,
I am not afraid of wind.
I am not afraid of truth.
There is nothing left to protect
that cannot protect itself.
(He kneels, picks up a single card.)
This card—
alone—
is worthless as a wall,
but honest as itself.
And honesty,
unstacked and unpolished,
is stronger than any fragile tower.
I will build again.
Yes.
But not like before.
This time—
with bricks of accountability.
With beams of patience.
With foundations that welcome storms
instead of fearing them.
Because if it can be destroyed
by a breath,
it does not deserve to be called a home.
(He stands.)
Let the house of cards fall.
Let it scatter.
I would rather stand among ruins
that teach truth
than live beneath a structure
that survives only
as long as no one breathes too deeply.
(Lights fade. Silence.)