Aanchhri | La Bibliothèque

Inspired by the folklore of the Himalayan Aanchhri, spirits believed to be the souls of young women who never truly found peace, this poem is about memory, silence, and voices that continue to echo long after death. Some stories refuse to disappear. They simply become the wind between the trees.

I watch my reflection in the still water
A careless woman and a reckless daughter
Rumours I could not defend
A wound that could not be mend
They shot me when I tried to fly
Now I wander through the forests of deodar and pines

I'm in the stories they whisper and secrets they share
What could not be, when I was alive is now mine in death
But even in death, they confined me
In the cages of their minds, where I can not be free

So I will linger in the cold wind and sleep by the trees
A story told by others is what I refuse to be.