I Grew A Third Eye

By Freyan S. Wadia

I woke up on Monday morning

With my usual Monday dread

But I still wasn’t prepared to see

An eye in the middle of my forehead.

I screamed at the mirror

As it stared back at me

It must’ve sprouted overnight

What’d been in the biryani?

It was large and bluish-green

Its long lashes fluttered with grace

It would’ve been a beautiful eye

Were it not in the middle of my face!

My mother saw it and fainted

My father simply stared

My brother burst out laughing

And our cat just didn’t care

I somehow arranged my fringe

Before I left for school

It’s hard enough sans third eye

Not looking a complete fool

In the bus and on the road

I realised I now had the honour

Of horrendous eyesight in three eyes

My ophthal’s now a goner

Then I suddenly became aware

Of a little girl in the street

She was selling flowers

In tatters and bare feet

She looked up and saw me

For what felt an aeon

But it was only a second

Before the bus rode on

That little girl in the hot sun

Was worlds apart from me

But in that very moment

I saw a stunning similarity

She was a girl, like me

She must also have dreams

And likes, loathes, lies, hopes

And three eyes began to stream

My third eye, Sprout, could see

What my other two couldn’t

All we’ve learnt to ignore

But Sprout simply wouldn’t

“Perhaps,” I thought to myself,

As tears rolled down my forehead,

“I can do something, just a bit,”

While all three eyes turned red

At school, no one saw me

Let alone my third eye

I was about to lunch

When I heard a little sigh

The new girl sat alone

Looking about to cry

I wanted to help her

But if she saw the eye?

But I gave in and sat

Tentatively by her side

It took all my power

Not to scream, run or hide

She looked up at me

Her throat sounded sore

“People here are so mean!”

I couldn’t agree more

As I nodded my head

My fringe slipped aside

When she saw dear Sprout

Her own eyes grew wide

“Uh,” I said articulately

How to explain a third eye?

But when she brushed her bangs aside

Boy, was I in for a surprise!

We’re now the best of friends

And nobody really gets why

Because they can’t see past the fringe

They cannot see our third eyes.

By Freyan S. Wadia