Comments about Shruti Fadte
Passing Through The Window Sill
Along the roadside as I go,
I peep through the houses in a row.
In which one appears strange;
As if it has undergone many times a change.
I glance at the solitary window,
Which has many melancholy seeds to sow.
I go near the window which is solitary;
Bearing the days lonely and nights dreary.
What is the life of that house, I think!
Where no one breathes nor anyone's eyes blink!
With this thought I move along the window sill,
Keeping the thought in my mind still;
I move aside the place,
With memory's smallest trace.