Under the Blue Sky
I play hopscotch across the drought-scarred land of my family. The sound of
crickets rising from the cracks is somehow soothing to my ears.
Abu sits quietly on a clay mound, watching me and the land that has fed our
family for generations. The furrows on his brow deepen with each passing
season, yet he keeps a soft smile on his face.
This is the second year without enough rain to soften our soil. Whenever clouds
drift over our land, we follow them with hope in our eyes until they disappear.
uneven trail —
we stumble over
our own shadows
haikuKATHA - Issue 58, 22 August 2026
https://www.trivenihaikai.in/post/haikukatha-issue-58
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Transience
She wants me to play with the clay toys she’s made from the river’s mud. It’s been a month since the river washed away her village. Since then, she has been living in a relief camp, trying to ease the ache of homelessness by moulding flood mud into fragile shapes. Her life has always swayed between a clay-bricked home and a tattered tent. Now, as a teenager, she no longer speaks her feelings — there are no words left, only silence in her barren eyes. She kneads that silence into clay. Before I leave, we build a tiny clay house together. She pours imaginary tea into a cup she has moulded and hands it to me.
midsummer moon —
I revert
to my former self
haikuKATHA, issue 52, February 2026
https://www.trivenihaikai.in/post/haikukatha-issue-52
