The Bottom Fell Out (A Dramatic Monologue) Poem by ashok jadhav

(The stage is sparsely lit. A figure stands in the center, papers fluttering around, a chair toppled nearby. The air is thick with tension. The speaker's voice is initially low, trembling, then grows sharper as he recalls the sudden collapse.)
It happened so fast—
faster than I could breathe.
One moment, I was walking on solid ground,
everything familiar, everything in place.
Confidence in my step.
Plans neat as a map.
Life… predictable.
And then—
the bottom fell out.
(He gestures wildly, as if grasping invisible support.)
One phone call.
One meeting.
One glance.
And suddenly, nothing made sense.
Years of careful preparation
crumbled into nothing.
The walls I built to keep chaos at bay
collapsed with a whisper.
(He laughs bitterly.)
I didn't even hear it coming.
No creak, no warning.
Just—
silence.
And then the echo of everything lost.
(He kneels to pick up a scattered paper.)
Do you know the feeling?
The ground you trusted—
gone.
The future you sketched—
ripped away.
Every certainty you held—
shattered in an instant.
I tried to hold on.
I clawed, I begged, I reasoned.
But gravity does not negotiate.
It does not care about effort.
It only takes what it will.
(He stands, pacing.)
The bottom fell out…
and with it, I fell too.
Not just plans, not just wealth, not just pride—
I fell into myself.
Into questions.
Into despair.
Into understanding
that life is never as solid as we imagine.
(He stops, voice softening.)
And yet…
perhaps that is mercy in disguise.
Because when the bottom falls out,
we see what truly matters.
The trappings, the veneers, the control—
all irrelevant.
Only breath, only choice, only resilience remain.
(He picks up a chair, sets it upright, slowly.)
I am left with pieces.
Not because I failed,
but because I needed to see the fragility of it all.
To remember that even the strongest structures
can vanish in a heartbeat.
(Pause. He looks upward, voice resolute.)
So yes… the bottom fell out.
Yes… chaos swept through.
Yes… I stumbled.
But I rise.
Piece by piece.
Because collapse is not the end.
It is the revelation.
The call to rebuild.
With eyes wide open.
With humility.
With the knowledge that solidity
is never guaranteed.
(He takes a deep breath, lifting both hands.)
And when I rise again,
I will rise wiser.
Stronger.
Not in arrogance.
Not in control.
But in acceptance.
Prepared for the sudden, the unforeseen,
and the bottom that might fall again.
(Lights dim slowly. Silence.)