Up, the staircase went somewhere,
For centuries, they lay vacant and bare.
Once, many moons ago, these were thronged with visitors galore,
Making a beeline for the residents that dwelled on top floors.
Willing to pay the price; laying bets for the prettiest,
The business of flesh was at its busiest.
Famed brothel, now, without a single life living in it,
A bloody story of gun-shots silenced it for eternity.
For, when bets are lost, and money-debts soared higher,
The chaos brought forth, crimes murkier.
While now, all that exist, is deafening silence,
The spirits of those killed, still surrounds.
Copyright 2016 © Nandini Deka