The Devil’s Bride (poetry)

Away, in the forest, the wind softly calls 

Nudging the trees, stirring them awake

Tip-toeing through the eerie blackness

Oh hark! There she comes again..

Noiselessly, whispering his very name…

adult art beautiful beauty
Photo by Pixabay on


As if on cue, the jackal howls 

Nervously darting  from her path

Teeth bared, it watches her pass

Ominously growling at her sweeping train

Not once she flinches but chants his name.



A wandering sorceress she is called

Not a soul knows who she was before

Terrifying tales of her magical spells

Often retold by simple village dame

No other sound escapes her lips, other than that hallowed name….


As her dark veil slips in the rippling breeze

Night itself gasps in shock

Trembling, the wind dances around her

Offering its allegiance, like a stallion tame

Now’s the time! And she cries out his name.

silhouette of man standing against black and red background
Photo by Elti Meshau on


A tremor under her feet she feels

No fear clouds her ember eyes

“Tell me that you’ve come for me!

One promise that can”t go in vain,

Now prove the magic of your name!”


And the shadows hear her ardent pleas

Nestled in black, they creep up to her

They engulf her in a lover’s embrace

Over her being, like the caress of spring rain

Nearer than ever, she hears his name.

close up photography of owl
Photo by Jean van der Meulen on


As if all hell had broken loose

Nameless voices shrieked their glee

Tugging her along, the shadows swept

Obscuring her, like living bait

Now blushing, she awaited her mate.


Who knows what transpired that terrible night…

And what became of the devil’s bride,,,


Fangirl💃: a silly poem.

images (3)The man strode down the winding stairs
And raised his eyes to glance but once
Caressing me with his careless glimpse
His feet impatient, but I saw my chance!
I brushed past him, my skirt a-twirl.

My heart a-flutter, I’m his fangirl.

Alas! My show was all a waste
His eyes were glued to the bluish screen
My eyes scanned for a hint of a smile
When startling me, his phone went ringgg!
Soon she arrived, with a plumage of curls
And who stood watching? This silly fangirl


I heaved a sigh , the two then hugged  Closing my eyes, I wished time halts
How long who knows.. i just stood there
As a loud bell rang, I awoke with a jolt
Rushed up the stairs, clutching the wall
Sad and forlorn, this sweet fangirl!

 Plopping down, I buried my face
“He has someone!” My insides broke
My head was a brick, eyes pools of tears
“Its gonna be alright,” my bestie spoke
Then she squealed, I thought ‘what a churl!’
While wallowing in pity, a distraught fangirl.

mini red hearts wallpaper
Photo by Ylanite Koppens on

But then I looked up, I let out a gasp
My bestie and I, our hands were a clasp
For who had walked in through that door
It was he! The new Math Professor!
Our eyes met, my mind was a whirl
Rejuvenated to life was the dead fangirl.



Have you ever paused to watch
Twilight that plays among the clouds?
Ever marvelled at what treasures lay
In Nature’s lap; its sights and sounds?

Ever wondered how the colours spread
Before the pall of darkness falls?
And how it calms your dejected soul
When it answers the creator’s whispering call?

The rush of day is almost done
And weary feet drag down the lane
On a whim, the eyes look up
And your weary heart forgets its pain.

For there’s magic in the view around
Such magic that is true and pure
The creator’s hand that holds the brush
Has strokes that can all ailments cure.

So if you ever glance up and see
Pinkish hues smeared across the sky
Believe its Him and His hand up there
You’ll feel His love in you if you try.

Your eyes may well with sudden tears
That threaten to spill down your chest
Let them flow for He forged you strong
He knows you will pass His every test.

Love is in the Air

silhouette of man touching woman against sunset sky
Photo by Pixabay on

“Will he remember me?” The eight year old asks. Her eyes glance nervously at her mom, a hand-made Valentine’s clutched between her fingers.

“Of course he will, my love!” Her mother assures her. The little girl stares at the portrait of her father mounted on the wall. “Mom says I have your eyes, dad..” she whispers, “I miss you dad, I don’t remember much of you except,,” she pauses, “You sang to me at bedtime….” Her face brightens, on a sudden thought.

“Was it Baby Beluga, mom?” She asks, filled with hope. Her mom nods, her voice choked. Forcing herself to smile, she prays for strength.

“See, I remember! Mom says I was just five when you…” Her words falter. She places the card on the tripod below the portrait. “Happy Valentine’s Dad!” She rushes off to make another one.

Her mom inches closer to her husband’s frame, “I got ice-cream and its the flavor you love,” she whispers conspiratorially, “and just like before, am gonna eat yours too!”

Does the portrait really listen? Does it even care?

Her tears are falling fresh and fast for love is in the air.

man kissing left cheek of smiling woman
Photo by Git Stephen Gitau on

Dreamy in her pristine white satin and veil, she gulps and shifts awkwardly

She cannot do this! She needs to run! She just isn’t ready!

Far across the aisle, she spots her groom, watching her intently. Her legs have turned to  stone.

When her father nudges her gently, “Answer your phone!”

Its her groom. “I know you wanna run,” he says, “let’s run away together.. Soon!

You can say ‘T do” later… but let’s have the honeymoon!”

She giggles and blushes, like the peach roses in her hair

And strides down the aisle to stand with him for love is in the air.

man and woman looking at earch other
Photo by Jasmine Wallace Carter on

Fragile, disheveled, the man always sat…. muttering in a corner

Folks spoke of how his love betrayed him for riches he could not buy

Left him desolate and raving mad. Yet he smiled at me as if he did not have a care

And shrieked in a hoarse, rattling tone, “Love is in the air!”

The big car swerved but he had jumped. Mangled, he lay on the road but I could barely shed a tear.

He must have thought this an apt occasion for love is in the air.


The Sentenced: Part 13


Sighs and unheard cries…

Like a bolt from the blue. That was my first thought when I read the email from the man who I hold responsible for Maya’s death. Not directly, but he was the one who thrust her into a pit of morbid despair, after he had taken what he wanted from her. Maya, though she was a beautiful soul had invested her trust in the wrong man who neither loved nor valued her. And I will never stop saying that!

When I had shared with him the news of Maya’s death, I had at least expected a heartfelt show of grief. Instead, I had received a two-liner saying he was sorry to hear the news. Personally, I am sure he was glad that she was gone.

Some people are like venomous snakes. Only worse because their bites cannot be seen with the human eye…. they harm the spirit and the victim dies of slow-poison. That man was just that!

But I am curious. Having read the email a couple of times already, I still cannot clearly deduce why he wants to come back here. Again. He has already snatched the person that I adored…. a woman with the most gorgeous smile I had ever seen. Whenever she bestowed it on me, I used to feel like the luckiest man on earth! Perhaps I would always adore her from a distance and never really speak up about my feelings, Yet, the sight of her filled me with a childish delight that I cannot express adequately in words. Just can’t stop the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. May be, I should let them flow… to heal, to forgive myself for not forcing Maya to abandon that man when she still could, for not getting more involved in her personal life, for resigning to fate and allowing destiny to take its course!

A long, audible sigh escapes my lips and I can feel myself bristling with rage. I did try to stop her and not just once. She was getting upset with me…. I feared that she would no longer confide in or trust me.

I shake my head. Excuses! See, I feared I would lose Maya’s friendship if I interfered too much in her personal life. Then I would not get to see her anymore! My life would feel empty again. Her smiling face, her ceaseless chatter, the subtle floral fragrance of wildflowers that always clung to her body…… all that would be taken away from me! I didn’t want to lose that…. I didn’t want to lose whatever little I could have of her! It turned me selfish and I lost her forever!

Late in the night sometimes, I suddely wake up and can see the moonlight spilling through the window shades. I wonder how it would be if I asked her in time, if she agreed. Would Maya be my wife then? Would she be by me, may be sitting on the porcb in the luminous night, sharing ice-cream from a tub and laughing away to glory until Maya fell asleep on my lap? And then, would I carry her inside in my arms, thanking my good fortune for making her mine?

And sometimes, when I am thinking about this, I feel her presence in me… her scent fills my room and the pain in me slowly goes away. It is as if she is standing by my bedside, smiling like before. I take her scent in my lungs greedily and drift off to sleep. But when I wake up in the morning, I am skeptical if it really happened or if I had just been dreaming!

Anyway, he said he will be arriving in two days time and he mentioned a companion. Its good they have arranged for their lodging because I will definitely not allow him any room in the University quarters. I still recall that moment when I got that frantic call from Nafeesa. It took me a while to understand, she was crying so much. When I realised what she was saying it was as if the air had been sucked out of my lungs! For a while, I struggled to breathe. The light had gone out of my world and I heard a buzzing in my head that made no sense. I can still hear that buzzing when I am thinking about the sight of her dead, yellowish face and her limp body in that bedroom of hers….. that she shared with him!

With Maya’s death,  I feel I have been served a cruel life sentence that I did not deserve. I did not want to see him, ever again. But now I will prepare myself for the meeting with…. with the man I loathe, like I have never loathed anyone else in my life!

The Sentenced: Part 11


You in me??

The car had stopped at a traffic light. He was engrossed in the picture of the Indian model clad in a gorgeous saree. She was dusky but attractive although she was too decked up. I was driving, but I had noticed the magazine open on his lap and he had been staring at the unknown Indian woman for the last five minutes or more. His eyes were contemplative and it was as if he had been staring not at her really but at something beyond.

“Seems familiar?” I asked with half a smile.He didn’t seem to hear me. I touched his hand…. those long, artistic fingers…. and tried again.

“Anton? Is that someone you know?”
As I asked, it seemed rather absurd to my own ears. How would he know her?

This time, he heard me and shook his head slowly in a ‘no’. His eyes still had that faraway look in them and for a moment, I was worried for him. These past few days he had seemed a tad vulnerable, a bit sad and disturbed under that light-hearted, witty veneer. As if, he wanted to tell me something, let me in on a secret but then decided against it in the very last minute. He had not been.sleeping well either and at times, I would wake up in the dead of the night to see him sitting at the table in our small, cosy study pouring over his books or even just sitting up in bed, hugging his bolster and lost in deep thought.

I had not been living with Anton for very long but I had read his habits well. I knew his likes, dislikes, those little mannerisms that were sometimes annoying but mostly so endearing. He was a deep- sleeper and even though I fought with him regularly for his habit of going to sleep rather late, I had never seen him sitting up in bed before in the middle of the night. However, knowing him for almost a year, I knew he would not tell me anything until he himself wanted to, no matter how much I pleaded, so I refrained from asking.

Soon however, we reached the little joint which was our favourite for a late Sunday brunch. The air was chilly and I sneezed as the cold air tickled my nose. He put his arm around me and pulled me closer and I relaxed immediately. There was something about his touch… something indecipherable but almost magical.

” Becca? Have you ever tried Indian?” He asked as I laced my fingers through his. We had just ordered our food and the little diner was abuzz with the lively chatter of the Sunday afternoon crowd.

” No,” I shook my head, “people say its too spicy!” He smiled and again I felt that he was dying to tell me something. This was disconcerting and I decided to try my luck.

“You seem anxious about something…. for some days now. Mind sharing?”

He looked at me and momentarily, a look of surprise flitted across his face. Clearly, he had not realised that I had noticed. Anton himself wasn’t much good at noticing how people felt. I sometimes joked that his emotional capacities were as good as a toddler’s. At times, he would be rude to me without even realising that he was hurting my feelings and seemed surprised when I told him so. But then again, it was part of his charm. He drew a long breath and I sat taut. Something was coming.

“Its funny how you mentioned Indian food is spicy….I sort of had the same dialogue with someone, years back.”

I guessed it was a woman. Indeed, it was.

“She took an instant liking to me, I am not sure why,” he shook his head and I smiled.

Perhaps, a woman can never explain well enough why she likes a man. Why did I like this man with his intelligent blue eyes, thinning hair and rimmed glasses? Was it his witty banter? His easy-going and undemanding persona? His vast resources of knowledge that surfaced only when he spoke passionately about something? What was it exactly about this workaholic Math professor that made me go weak in my knees?

But Anton was talking and I forced myself to be alert. It was seldom that I got to peep in his past.

“I was telling this fine, young woman that I would love to try a few Indian dishes but they are usually too hot for me.”

He chuckled, reminiscing.

“She replied with an innocent face that so are Indian women. I laughed heartily…I still remember…”

I wanted to hear more but the food arrived and he clammed up. Back home, we relaxed on the couch while staring at the television but not really watching anything. It was still going to be a couple of hours before sunset and our living room was bathed with sunlight that drew criss-cross patterns on the floor. I leaned into him and drifted into a cosy siesta.

I do not know when he had laid me down on the couch and pulled the curtains close. His hands were pressing down on my shoulders and my eyes flickered open. I was ready as his mouth came down on mine and then slithered down to my neck. His stubble was so ticklish as it rubbed against my skin, it made me giggle helplessly.

Within minutes, he became more demanding. It was as if this Anton only emerged in the most passionate moments….. an aggressive animal, very different from the slightly aloof, reticent gentleman the world knew. As he took control, I lay under him with my eyes closed. My insides trembled in anticipation.

His lips were moving against my face, my ears…. whispering words of desire. Frenzied, my mind was a whirlwind…… and my soft moans answered his almost inaudible ones. I gathered him in a loving embrace and….


My eyes shot open to see him with a ghastly expression on his face. Releasing me, he sat bolt upright, looking dumbstruck.

“Ahem, its Rebecca but agree ‘Maya’ is easier,” I tried to make a joke of it.

He slowly stood up and I quickly put my hand on his arm to restrain him. However, I was looking at his eyes. They wore that confused, disoriented expression again. Shaking my hand off easily, he left the room quickly and I lay there wondering whose name it was that he had called me by.


Frenzy (poem)


Again, those nights of sheer ecstasy
Nights that always seem so new
The touch of his mouth on her craving one
Once a prayer in her heart
Now answered at last.

As the pleasure and pain seer her soul
Not a single sound escapes her lips
Till he possesses her entire being
Once and for all, he claims her free will.
Never hesitating, she makes the offering.

A giant serpent is he and entwines her
Nailing her down, he smirks with pride
Trembling, as his hands disrobe her
Over and over, she rejoices, she cherishes
Near-ecstatic, her teeth sink into his back.

A man she feels so complete with
Yet she knows not if he loves her
In her adoration, there are no lies
She does not demand, she only thanks her stars.
He takes, she gives. He rejects, she believes.

She believes he is a blessing sent her way
And she worships, like the undaunted sunflower that adores the sun,
She knows perhaps he will not stay
Yet deep in her heart, she feels they are but one.

The Sentenced: Part 10

Silhouette man leaves from the woman

  I meant you no harm but….Antonspeak 

My mind was made up. However, I did not want any of the histronics that I would have to deal with once I broke the news to Maya. For the past few days, she was draining my energy, asking me why I looked so disturbed, if she could do anything to alleviate it, if I was still offended with her….. boring! So boring! Knowing that she would not leave me alone unless I gave her a definitive answer, I cooked up a story about my dad’s failing health adding that I might have to travel to Italy soon, albeit, for a short while to make sure he was getting the required treatment.

She immediately bought into the story. Her anxiety was immediately replaced by extreme empathy and support. Her heart cried for my dad’s ‘plight’ and the fact that I was far away from home. How very predictable this woman was! She even insisted on accompanying me to the Dean’s office and explaining to the Dean why I should be granted the special leave of a fortnight before the completion of my teaching period at the University.

Secretly, I was elated. She was making it so much easier! She was quite paly with the Dean and when he heard of my ‘genuine’ reasons, he agreed to grant me the ‘break’. The Dean, however, did politely remind me that the students would be taking their exams in a couple of months so I should not overextend my stay. I nodded solemnly and thanked him for his understanding.

“Thank you, Mr Sekhawat. I knew you’d understand!” Maya’s voice was almost choking with gratefulness.

Such unnecessary and over-the-top display of emotions! It disgusted me! The Dean gave her a tiny smile but his eyes were fixed on my face, as if trying to delve deeper into my thoughts. Almost like a hawk, he was trying to watch for my reactions as Maya gushed about how I would be so grateful to him for allowing me to visit my parents at such a short notice.

I always told Maya that she talked too much. Too much! She would take it as good-natured teasing but she hardly knew that she was letting strangers into her domain so easily by giving out so much information about her likes and dislikes, her thoughts, her emotions. People who were smart enough to know what to do with that could easily manipulate her using the valuable information that she so unwittingly disclosed. I did it, quite a few times. It was easy as anything, using her childish notions of empathy, honour and ‘love conquers all’ attitude to twist her around my little finger. Such archaic emotions don’t work in today’s world.

I might come across as a villain but anyone who gives too much without even being asked always runs the risk of losing…. their self-esteem, individuality, dignity and more….

We were about to exit the Dean’s office when he stood up from his chair and escorted us outside. When he spoke to me, his voice was quiet but almost accusing.

“Professor…” he paused and I turned around, “You do intend to come back here as per the terms of your contract, don’t you? And… for Maya?”

Startled, I almost dropped my guard but the next moment I could manage a warm smile.

I would not utter a word. Glancing at Maya, I could see the puzzled expression on her face and I reassured her by taking her hand and squeezing it gently. She was all smiles then.

As we left, hand in hand, for our respective departments, I could feel the Dean’s eyes boring into my back. This man did not trust me and because of his position at the University, he could hinder my plans. I knew I had to act quickly.


The next evening, I was on a flight to Delhi. Maya wanted to accompany me to Delhi from where I had booked a flight to Rome but I reasoned with her that leaving her behind at the airport would make the departure a very difficult one for me. I promised to call her before my flight from Delhi. I did.

Maya was relieved to hear my voice.

“Anton! Is everything okay? Are you alright?” Her voice ridden with anxiety and her usual barrage of questions…all too familiar, and irritating.
However, I decided not to lose my cool. This would be my last conversation with her anyway, I remember thinking.

“Maya, there’s something I need to let you know…. it’s important that you listen before you ask your questions, ok?”
My voice was soft and casual. She responded after a short pause.


“Look, I have been here a long time and I think its time to head home…. permanently….. my research is almost over…”

I knew I would be interrupted and I was.

“What! But you…you… promised Mr Sekhawat you’d come back… Anton…and….me! What about…. me! ” She stuttered.
I could hear the hiccups as she spoke but I was prepared to ignore her dramatics.

“Maya, you know my dad is unwell and my mother all alone…” I kept glancing at my watch. I had to finish off quickly.

“I know that! But you said, you promised you’d come back after….you promised me Anton!”
She almost screamed and I had to hold the phone away from my ear for a moment or two.

“Let’s be clear here,” I resumed, “I have made you no promises, ever. I do not know what the future holds but am sure I might have to stay away for a long time! I will write to Mr. Sekhawat and see if….”

I paused. She was sobbing hysterically at the other end. I was not much bothered, really. My conscience was clear. If she had made her own plans about her future with me, a future that I never promised her, then it wasn’t my problem. However, I tried to calm her down, one last time.

“Maya, its not easy for me either, so I’d appreciate it if you could act more mature and not make the goodbye so difficult for me…”
I had used the word ‘goodbye’ with a purpose, to make the finality of my decision sink into her mind. It immediately worked.

“So…this is goodbye?” She asked hesitantly, in between sobs.

“I think so,” I answered simply.

My flight to Rome was in an hour and a half and I needed to complete immigration. I told her that and hung up. She was still sobbing uncontrollably and did not reply.

At that moment, the only thing I wanted was to shut off her sobs and go some place far away where Maya’s despair could not reach me.

However, I did not wish for her to die!