It is now, at
the midnight hour
The glassy-eyed
tiger
mounted on the wall
Turns its head to
me
And stares…
I rise and walk
to the window
Relive the past
roles.
Your strong voice
-Once again-
Fills the dense silence in the bedroom
Why did I choose
this struggle, I wonder
To lose you …then
again to live with you…?
Flashbacks turn
into nostalgia
A few droplets
roll down my cheeks.
Pity, I never
learnt to compromise
What a waste of
energy!
Ha! This day, I am the
dead skin
Kept in
the tiger’s custody…
Destiny it is, for sure ...sigh!
A shadow of
regret rubs my spine
Let me confess,
The mute
taxidermy tiger, you hunted and secured
still stares at me every night.
We both remain
reticent in the staring contest
We both sit, watchful of each
other,
We have become more tighter than we seem...
Oh, I am just learning what eyes are meant to see
-without the heart, but to the core
I have returned,
my love, on the love-hedge
Multiplied by the stars and moon in my eyes
But, the
nameless one dead for decades now,
is yet to seal the cracks
of the
house we tore apart.
It is still not a part of me…
Taxidermy: Taxidermy
was popular over a century ago in India, when royals hunted animals and showcased them as
trophies. With the introduction of the Wildlife Protection Act and the ban on
hunting, thankfully, taxidermy has been reduced to an art confined to a few
museums.
To me, this is probably
the sickest thing I've seen in few heritage homes. It's cruel and demented and is the exact reason I
wish to help animals all over the world, to help them populate…
Linked with :
I like the lines where you and the tiger gaze at each other. And "Oh I am just learning what eyes are meant to see". A wonderful response to the prompt, Panchali. Here in Canada, there are still "trophy hunters", I am sad to say.
ReplyDeleteI see sadness in the eyes of the taxidermy tiger and I feel it strongly in the words of your poem. I am so glad that this practice is coming to an end & / or discouraged all over the world. You have written a thought-provoking poem, Panchali.
ReplyDeleteI can't imagine how people can shoot animals for pleasure... nicely woven poem, like the introspection mode.
ReplyDeleteThis has absence of the hunter, of the life and body of the tiger, of imperialists--"Why did I choose this struggle, I wonder
ReplyDeleteTo lose you …then again to live with you…?"
This resonates, so haunting and horrible.
We both sit, watchful of each other,
ReplyDeleteWe have become more tighter than we seem...
Oh, I am just learning what eyes are meant to see
-without the heart, but to the core
These lines really spoke to me.
Beautifully expressed.
Lots of love,
Sanaa
'Oh, I am just learning what eyes are meant to see
ReplyDelete-without the heart, but to the core'
:)
there are those who look at a skin 'rug', sit on it and think this makes me feel good ..powerful..there are others who look at it for the destruction it is - i am thankful you voiced that and showed us how it feels..
ReplyDeletethroughout the poem written with so much heart, i could feel the presence of the absent tiger...
ReplyDeleteA powerful poem with such visuals....here we have too many trophy hunters....if we could let nature be...what a world then!
ReplyDeleteDonna@LivingFromHappiness
A striking, troubling poem – as it should be. Horrible to think there are still some places where this happens.
ReplyDelete"Oh, I am just learning what eyes are meant to see
ReplyDelete-without the heart, but to the core" Stunning work! This history is very sad and one wonders how this can be done with good conscience by these people! The things done to animals by humans is sickening.
"I am the dead skin
ReplyDeleteKept in the tiger's custody"--
such a brilliant flipping here....I like what you've done with perspectives and with commentary in this piece...really insightful.
It is thankfully a cruel and sadistic trait of the past to hang the skin and head of the hunted animals in the drawing halls.I have never been comfortable to remain in such rooms.
ReplyDelete