tanvinagar

India

Tanvi Nagar is 16 years old and lives in Haryana, India. She has been writing for the past eight and has won the Eye Level Literary Award, Daekyo, SK and contributes to newspapers, magazines and anthologies.

Message from Writer

Hi! It’s a pleasure to be a part of this prestigious community. I would love to receive the feedback of my peers and look forward to growing and becoming a better writer, with all your support and guidance.

Published Work

The Last Embrace

Between the constant rain and tears,
Neglecting my hopes and fears,
I stood on the bus stand in the last embrace,
I couldn't bear to see his face,
We stood together as my eyes were fixed,
Upon him, as he planted on my cheek a soft kiss,
Amid the pools and puddles with resounding cries,
The crowds and curious passersby,
His grip loosened but I didn't want to let go,
What destiny would bring we both didn't know,
In the blur of my vision and thoughts, it was not long,
Before in the melting drops of rain, he was gone.

Heal- A Poem on the COVID-19 pandemic

Countless days, months and years- they say a winter that’s lasted too long, 
There is snow on the pathless land and the stars twinkle in the dawn, 
The grasshoppers in the night, the birds in the morn sing their song, 
Whispers have melted into silence, a lot has changed, a lot is gone.  

Yamuna and Ganga reflect divinity and peace in their unfathomable depths, 
Humans discover their long-forgotten love, strength and resilience, 
The Earth is removing its bandages, plastered on its wounds long ago, 
The nebulous horizon is now dawning the shades of blue and indigo. 

The morning sun touches the icy landscape and the petals of the rose bloom, 
A unique camaraderie- between nature and mankind, removes all gloom. 
Humans are prisoners in metal cages many animals spend their life behind, 
Maybe Almighty has paused the time, so humans can reflect on their lifetime. 
 
Its calmer now, like tranquillity after the storm,
Maybe coronavirus isn’t the storm, but...

Dear Snow Flaked Night

Dear snow flaked night, answer a few questions of mine,
Why in the surreal dim sky the stars glitter and shine?
Do they want to tell us of the new morn that’s about to rise above the horizon?
The morn that’ll brighten souls and hearts enliven,
Dear snow flaked night, why are the streets covered with snow?
Do they want to emphasise upon the orange, wax-melt sun that’ll rise tomorrow?
Dear snow flaked night when the void silence prevails,
Which wintery, folklore do you want to elaborate, which legendary tale?
Dear snow flaked night, what is signified by the blue and white that stretches endlessly,
Do you want to brighten the path upon which we all tread eventually?
Dear snow flaked night is it the lamentation of the lover who was betrayed,
That makes you serene, or is it the loyal canine who howls sitting by his master’s grave?
Dear snow flaked night, why do the chilling winds blow?
Do...

She hadn’t seen

She hadn’t seen the New York tower, never walked more than eight miles,
She hadn’t seen the world beyond her children’s smiles,
She hadn’t seen the temples of India nor the churches of Rome,
She had only made a devout prayer for her children at home, 
She hadn’t read the Gita, she hadn’t read the Bible,
But her wisdom for her children stood unparalleled,
She hadn’t seen Annapurna’s or the Matterhorn’s perilous slopes,
Yet, she warned her children of their horoscope.
She hadn’t seen the Golden Gate Bridge nor the ones that lay in Sydney,
She hadn’t touched the fragile dew drops on the roses, tulips and the lilies,
She hadn’t seen the world they said, she hadn’t read a single word,
Her bank of knowledge was full but only her thoughts unheard,
She hadn’t written sentences, scholarly knowledge she was thought to be unworthy of,
Yet, she rewrote history with just four alphabets, her unmatched ‘love.’ 
 

Shine like a star in the sky

 
A young girl who has lost her father, and dreams of meeting him once again writes this poem. The way she perceives his presence is unusual. 
 
Dear starry sky, I was eight when I first looked up at you and mother said,
"That’s where daddy lives" when I asked whether he was alive or dead,
Dear starry sky, I was twelve when I started to see all the patterns within you,
I thought of visiting daddy, my dreams rapidly grew and grew,
Dear starry sky, I was fourteen, when I began to strive towards this vision, 
All the jokes and happiness we were to share, I could already imagine, 
Dear starry sky, I was sixteen and I was able to think of giving light to my wings,
I had to talk to dad about my future and all the other zillion things, 
Dear starry sky, I tasted bitter failure when I was eighteen,
When I was unsuccessful in...

The Beating Heart

When it’s morning when the sky is the same pale blue,
My heart still beats, beats for you, 
My eyes see just enough to make you out, among all those shades of destiny,
For I know your heart lies close to me, 
My lips crave to touch yours, soft and delicate,
My heart still beats for moments of togetherness, O’ soul mate.
 
When it’s afternoon, in the hot sunshine,
My hands wish to feel your skin run against mine, 
I wish for love, I wish you were here, 
I wish we could go on one last walk together, 
I wish we could spare just one more lifetime, for each other, 
Be close, through life, both the sunny and rainy weather.
 
When it’s evening and the stars have just started to twinkle,
When the sunshine has just started to dwindle,
The sun’s rays spread across the horizon,
The treasured memories would be your only everlasting symbol,
The colours of...

Golden Dreams

He gazed at the ebony sky, his eyes glowing like magical stars with a desire to learn, 
He was encapsulated by aspirations, for knowledge he had an insatiable yearn, 
He lived amid a jungle, in the thick Amazon- yet his dreams were wild, 
He dreamt of friends, blackboards and all that he had read in books- the fantasy of a child
He closed his eyes to find himself in a school, surrounded by fun and frolic, 
He didn't find himself amidst riches nor in a majestic palace. 
 
She stared into a window of her village shop that sold coloured bangles each day,
Her eyes were full of glee for she could go to her village school-she had earned enough today,
She lived in a coastal town of Pakistan- yet dreamed of a journey to the zenith and beyond, 
She dreamt of the pursuit of knowledge-not princesses, palaces or a magic wand
She...

The Day the Mountains Cracked Open

The horizon wore charcoal colours when the mountains cracked open,
My bleeding heart couldn’t be repaired with bandages, I was broken,
Shattered pieces of glass pierced my soul, I was overcome with agony,
Pain overflowed from my eyes and wet the rocks below me,
It was just the crack of midnight when the mountains cracked open,  
My beating heart’s traumatic call was unheard and unspoken,
The mountains cracked open as I still wept for you,
My cry of betrayal was portrayed by nature, it seemed to weep too,
I lost myself self in your love and I found myself amidst this ruin,
You turned down my true love, your intentions were so cruel,
The sky wore the hues of dawn when I saw the lava for the first time, 
It was like the golden-medallion, its colours refreshed my eyes, 
It encircled me and my pain grew calmer as minutes passed,
The mountains had cracked open, I was breathing my last,
The lava felt hotter...

The Warrior Rising

The Dragon
1. She was five when her father gifted her a locket 
Inside of this lies a dragon 
“Call him when you need him.” 
He will protect you from the evils of the world
He will fend off those who weaken your spirit 
Oh! How she kept that locket safe
Guarding 
Protecting 
Preserving it. 
 
The Locket
2. She was seven when she wore another thread-
A necklace sort of thing 
This time it was round her neck 
The precious stones will protect you
Never remove this necklace 
Oh! How she kept that locket close 
Guarding 
Protecting 
Preserving it.
 
The Hues 
3. She was fifteen when she was told 
Wear these colours-
White, pink and maybe yellow- 
They are your lucky ones
They won’t let any harm come to you 
Oh! Then on, she was clad in only some shades 
Pinks 
Whites 
Yellows. 
 
The Warrior-Her
4. She was seventeen when she needed this luck-
In a dark alley way,...

Memory Object

Meant to be

Mother called out to me-
“This painting of yours 
which you made in grade three
It’s just sitting in the attic
Do you want to hang it on a wall
Or should I put it up in the garage sale next week?”
I went up to the attic 
where mother held it in her hand.
My painting-a family portrait it was.
I don’t know what exactly happened 
inside me, to me. 
I was suddenly speechless. 
The painting brought this rush of blood 
inside my veins
this sudden acceleration of my heart beat
I tried and tried but I just couldn’t speak. 
My father-he was the tallest stick figure
and held my mother’s hand 
so delicately, so finely, so happily. 
My mother had two bold streaks for her hair
and a pleated pink dress- I drew. 
She had me in her hands 
Just so beautifully, lovingly, happily. 
I wished just then 
that life could be the way I painted in grade...

Dear Rose

Dear rose, you don’t utter a word, yet I hear your soft whispers,
Every time I hear you, questions arise within me, satisfy my hunger,
When spring has just arrived by a loved one’s graveside, why do you bloom?
On corners of graves, which behold memories, long since entombed.
 
O’ majestic flower, how do you keep your spirit through storms?
And dance in the rain, without waiting for the darkness to be gone?
You’re a flower with much to tell, share some with me,
I’ll hear your musings, I’ll be your sole company.

Dear rose, do you nod to the stars, in the dark blue skies above,
O’ flower you carry tales of thousand hearts, some fables of endearing love,
You’ve seen some hearts shatter, you’ve seen agony,
Dear rose, share a part of you with me, for I’ll be your lone company.

Why do your petals shed pearl-dew tears, when a loved one dies?
Why do your petals,...

Pandemic Memoir

Caged

The water-gone
The street lights-unlit 
Darkness absolving within it-
the sunshine that touched 
my dry and parched lips. 
The pandemic, inside the pandemic.  
 

CHRYSALIS

I sat in a dimly lit room and began to flip the dusty journal’s pages, 
‘My life’- the first page said- ‘Every detail in this journal I have narrated’
My grandmother’s words, her handwriting preserved perfectly through time,
“This journal begins on 18th September 1800, it will end with the end of my life,
They call me a warrior, they call me a fighter-mother, lover, daughter too,
I have been all of them, not a single day of my life has been rued, 
When I came into this world they labelled me as a housewife-nothing more,
A slave-born to live and die inside four walls- “What more is a girl even worthy for?”
“You must die with your husband, he’ll live with you for seven lives,” mother said, 
(He’s twenty-seven years elder to me-he’s on his death bed)
(How can I die before I have begun to achieve my dreams-Yes! I have dreams too,
How can I jump...

What comes after when

When love begins, people question- how long, 
Will it last for infinite lifetimes ahead?
When the shadows of love are outlined in the dark-
Will this love be mine-with mind, body and spirit?
 
But I don’t ask those questions,
Instead, I simply wonder 
What, what is the purpose of meeting whom I’ve met.

Dear Love

Dear love, I have always wanted to understand you more, 
But first of all, you must know you are the one who I most adore. 
Dear love, will you stand by me through the most rugged journeys of all? 
Dear love, as years pass by will you be there still standing strong? 
When there’s solitude that surrounds like the charcoal darkness of night, 
Will you be there, like a solid rock strong by my side? 
When gloom envelopes me, when pain is only what I feel, 
Will a single touch of yours make my wounds and scars heal? 
Dear love, when my life is nothing but a misty, smoky mirror,                
Will you be the sunlight and beat life’s grey weather? 
Dear love, when the sprinkler of affection waters our gardens of destiny, 
Will you be treading upon this path with me as zestfully? 
Dear love, when distaste is the only thing that binds...

Dear North Star

Dear pole star, I dedicate this to you,
Because in my mind lies a question, why do you not twinkle like other stars do?
Do you like to be there in the sky all alone?
Do you want to rest, after the way to weary travellers you have shown?
Do you observe what the humans do?
Do you feel bad because there aren't many like you?
Do you feel yourself to be a lesser star?
Do you not twinkle to indicate how cross you are?

With people who are just the same, but divided by the holy place they pray?
Do you not twinkle because you are the witness to troubles of every day?
When you know that some choose a church while other’s a shrine,
But the Divine remains the Divine.
When you watch from there, up in the sky,
You may have wondered why,
Why, humans quarrel over a little less or more melanin?
In each other’s skin, ...

What we made

I made stardust. Rather, we made it together, 
We mixed the ashes of our ties, 
Along with time-the famous healer, 
We simply let go.
The ashes divided, broke into pieces 
So minute, so tiny, so little, 
That they became power
And magic, they became our healer
The goodbye didn’t hurt anymore, 
It simply existed in the universe
Floating
Existing 
Remaining 
Like the stardust we left behind,
Maybe that’s what destiny made of us-
Two souls, too far away yet united with magic.

The Oasis

She pictured the forests-
She heard the moonlit darkness call 
Inside the darkness, she felt 
She would have solitude and calm. 
So she walked into the jungle 
A little light was all she had 
The trees loomed
The animals cried out 
The winds blew strong.
 
It was then that she began to realise 
That she had understood it all wrong
The darkness was an oasis of its kind 
It couldn’t bring more light 
All it would do to her was misguide.
So she turned back and made her way 
The anxiety loomed 
Pain made her cry out 
The winds blew strong.
 
This time she wasn’t running away 
Fighting 
Struggling 
Growing 
A warrior in the making. 
 

Wanderlust-A Heart’s Longing


My heart aches for another breeze to brush by me gently,
My road of life is shaped by the curvaceous path of destiny,
My dwelling is in every creek, in every cave by the mountainside,
I don’t have a solitary who keeps my secrets, in whom I confide,
I am not garlanded by pearls, I am adorned by the solar systems’ stardust,
I keep one foot after the other, inspired by my soul’s wanderlust.
 
My heart aches for the dingy forests and scent of the fresh roses,
I do not regret over the roads in life I have left behind, unchosen,
I am enchanted by this stupendous world, by every blue river and stream,
I seek pleasure in the untruthfulness of my illusionistic dreams,
I do not wish to bear the weight of the finest of silk nor purest gold,
I only yearn that mysteries of this world, with my wanderlust, I can unfold. 
 
When my heart aches...