Thursday, July 14, 2016

Taxidermy Under Her Belly~



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…

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13 comments:

  1. 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.

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  2. I 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.

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  3. I can't imagine how people can shoot animals for pleasure... nicely woven poem, like the introspection mode.

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  4. This has absence of the hunter, of the life and body of the tiger, of imperialists--"Why did I choose this struggle, I wonder
    To lose you …then again to live with you…?"
    This resonates, so haunting and horrible.

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  5. 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

    These lines really spoke to me.
    Beautifully expressed.

    Lots of love,
    Sanaa

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  6. 'Oh, I am just learning what eyes are meant to see
    -without the heart, but to the core'
    :)

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  7. 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..

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  8. throughout the poem written with so much heart, i could feel the presence of the absent tiger...

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  9. A powerful poem with such visuals....here we have too many trophy hunters....if we could let nature be...what a world then!

    Donna@LivingFromHappiness

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  10. A striking, troubling poem – as it should be. Horrible to think there are still some places where this happens.

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  11. "Oh, I am just learning what eyes are meant to see
    -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.

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  12. "I am the dead skin
    Kept 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.

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  13. 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.

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