Scared? Scarred.

With terror in bold,

With love striked out,

Chauvinism italicized,

Like the sound of a whip underlined twice,

“Sudha!”, he screamed,

While she hid in the closet,

The one behind the big storage room,

At the rear end of their ugly mansion

Which led to the open, suffocating verandah

Where hopes and dreams lay with the dead in the tomb,

Garnished with flowers of gold.

 

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