Hoodwinked

Hoodwinked am I?
I ask the sky,
The fallen leaves,
Meant to die.

She rests her back,
Against the soft tree,
Shackled in black love,
Trying to break free.

The toxic lust,
Is wasted away,
Charred by inch,
Awake she lay.

Hoodwinked she was,
It struck upon her,
Around her echoed,
His drawling lure.

He looked her through,
Wanting her soul,
His eyes pitch black,
A fiery coal.

Did he love her,
Every minute she thought,
Heavily and mightily,
The feelings she fought.

Hoodwinked by him,
She tried to appeal,
Finally she gave up,
Her blood now teal.

-Tanvi

The Bride

She looked into the mirror,
Frail and pale, a vision in red,
Lush bronze fell off her back,
The clock had struck, it was time to wed.

Father had chosen the groom to be,
She had given herself to destiny,
Lost in thoughts of her glorious future,
Doused she was in walls of silent epiphany.

The boy was the village's pride,
Apple of his father's eye,
Hopes high were pinned on him,
He followed his father, persona shy.

All eyes on her, she walked to him,
Rituals began and flowers strewn,
Voices echoed, an argument broke,
Her father's turban fell, cloth of maroon.

Sarees of silk and bars of gold,
Had not yet reached said the groom's father,
Since you are late, we make it double,
If you cannot give, then do not bother.

The spineless boy sat very still,
Bride stood up now determined,
Get up and leave, said the Bride,
Father's tears fell, her voice weakened.

The angry groom and family left,
Bride watched, resigned to fate,
Who will hold her hand, Father asked,
He looked hopelessly at the gate.

From the crowd, there rose a voice,
Stood a man, charming in white,
I will hold her hand, said he loudly,
She looked at him, filling with might.

Ceremony passed, they were now wed,
Walking for blessings hand in hand,
Her Father's feet they touched in joy,
Off swept her knight, to a loving land.

-Tanvi

Hate

I hate the way you know me,
I hate how much you care,
I hate our peaceful silence,
I hate the connect so rare.

I hate how I wait for you,
I hate the talks we speak,
I hate these unusual feelings,
I hate how I am so weak.

I hate the way I feel,
I hate the miles between,
I hate each passing day,
I hate the weakness you've seen.

I hate the building tension,
I hate the unknown realm,
I hate how much control you hold,
I hate the ship you helm.

I hate the budding love,
I hate the indecisiveness,
I hate how unsure we are,
I hate you play me like chess.

-Tanvi.

Darkness

I gaze ahead with swollen eyes,
A stretch of the darkest patch,
Glittering tears are streaming down,
No one is willing to catch.

Walking alone in the darkness,
I hope I am not being tricked,
My sanity and essence of life,
Seems to be terribly nicked.

Suddenly I am falling through,
The orchids of sense are to die,
I cannot watch the pain and death,
Please let this be a lie.

Lying on the cold black floor,
Waiting for the beam of light,
Hoping it will soon emerge,
I wont give up without a fight.

The darkness lasts for long,
The unknown lies ahead,
I feel every part of me,
Is burnt with molten lead.

-Tanvi

While At Sea

She looks outside,
Droplets fall,
A start of storm,
She imagines his call.

Two days have passed,
He is still at sea,
Hopelessly she waits,
Whilst sipping strong tea.

If he does not return,
Her thoughts run wild,
What is to happen,
Of her innocent child.

Her shackled hut tremors,
As the lightning strikes,
Her soul has shattered,
Pierced by million spikes.

Blissful years had passed,
She loved him to bits,
Her family photograph hanging,
Looked a perfect fit.

But while he is at sea,
Her heart has a catch,
He is her love and life,
Which no one can snatch.

She says a silent prayer,
His safety, her only wish,
The door opens and he stands,
Strong and tall, carrying fish.

Filled with hope and faith,
Her family is out of harm,
The child runs happily,
Into her father's arms.

- Tanvi

Two Stalkers

He watched her. He had been looking at her since the last two years. He remembers the first time he saw her, as if it were yesterday. She had just moved into the neighborhood, Jenny was her name. She and her family had moved from Goa, wanting a faster life in the colorful city of Kolkata. The local milkman was kind enough to tell him this little detail.

She was wearing a baby pink dress, her long brown hair pulled back in a messy bun. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. From that moment onwards he never stopped stalking her. He would wake up early in the morning, just to watch her dry her hair in the balcony. She was an early riser, after showering, she left for college. He followed her till the station and watched her get into the train. He wanted to go to her college, but sadly he had office. She would return in the evening, precisely at the time his shift was over. He would rush to the station and then follow her slowly back home. He tried his level best not be seen, yet he felt once or twice, she must have caught him watching, once he glimpsed a smile, but maybe he had imagined it. She would reach home, throw off her sandals, and eat her meal, first thing when she entered. Once everyone had retired post dinner, she would come to the balcony with a small lamp and read a book till all the lights in the busy streets of Kolkata went out. He was just happy watching through the window. At times he felt like going and talking to her. How hard could it be, but he never seemed to have the courage to even look her in the eye.

She switched off the lamp and went inside. As soon as she went in, his day was over. He slept off, waiting for morning to arrive.


Jenny went to her room. As she lay in bed, she thought of him. Why cant he just come to her and talk. Was she that intimidating? She had smiled at him once, but maybe he didn't see. She set an alarm. He always woke up early, maybe he was an early riser. She wished he would have come to the window a little late, she hated waking up so early, but she had to see him first thing. It had become a compulsion.

Next morning, she bathed and rushed to the balcony, there he was. Something was so soothing when she saw him. She got ready and started walking towards the station. She saw him walk behind. If only she knew where his office was, but somehow her train would always come before his. From a secret source she had found out that his shift ended in the evening. She stayed back in college, reading in the library, just so that in the evening she could see him walking back from the station. Again it seemed his train arrived before hers. She walked ahead, he was behind. Should she say something?
She reached home, threw off her sandals and ate her meal. She was so very hungry, she never had money to eat something while she waited in college till evening. After everyone retired,she rushed with her lamp to the balcony. She sat there pretending to read. She could see him, through his window, sitting. What was he doing? As the whole of Kolkata turned dark, she too felt drowsy, she had to catch some sleep if she wanted to wake up early and see him. She went inside. When she peeped again to see if he's still there, all she could see was darkness.


He slept off. His alarm rung in the morning and he rushed to the window. Today she wore a bright blue kurta. The blue made her brown hair, shine out more than usual. He followed her to the station, when she suddenly stopped. She turned towards him. He was paralyzed. A part of him wanted to run away, but his feet seemed glued to the ground. She was coming towards him.

Just when he was about to run, she said, "Hi, I am Jenny".

The Lullaby

The house was right next to Shyam's home. He could see it through his window. It was dull, lifeless, and he would watch the woman cook her food, eat and then sleep. Sometimes he saw her looking at a photograph and crying.

Shyam was an adopted child. After being shifted from various foster homes, a Bengali family had adopted him. They were nice to him, but they fought a lot amongst themselves. Everyday there was a huge fight between the husband and wife. The wife would throw the utensils, and suddenly Shyam could hear a loud smack. Once he found the wife looking pale, lying on the floor, crying, and the husband above her, kicking. Shyam couldn't bear it. His days would go locked up in his room, playing, making so much noise so as to drown their fights and abuses.

They didn't know, but he cried himself to sleep. One night, as he tried to sleep, teary faced, he heard a sweet lullaby. It was a sweet voice, gentle, caring, coming through his window. He felt himself drift off. Soon an unspoken bond had formed. Every night Shyam would fall asleep listening to the beautiful lullaby coming from the other house. He couldn't hear the shouting at night.

This went on for a while, he wondered if he should visit her. He went to the house but the door was locked. Maybe she had gone to the market. He waited for her outside. Soon it was nightfall and he was called home for dinner. Again during dinner, the husband and wife had a major fight over the salt content of the curry. The argument passed from the curry to his inability to produce a child. The husband, vociferous, angered, punched her and then kicked away. Shyam ran to his room, crying, waiting to hear the soothing lullaby. As he lay in bed, he heard the beautiful voice.

Next morning he went over, locked again. He waited and waited, she didn't come. The mailman passing by saw Shyam. Shyam told him that he was waiting for the woman living in this house. The mailman took Shyam back home and decided to have a word with his parents. He told them that everyone in the neighborhood knew about their fights, but now things have gotten out of hand. The child is getting affected and if things don't sort out, serious damage can be caused. The child was waiting for the woman living in the next house. No one lives there, he said. Keep the child away, there are rumors, that a woman lived there. Her husband died in war, the news was unbearable for her. She smothered her children and later killed herself.

The mailman left, on his way wondering, how did Shyam know that a woman lived there.