The Bride
In the dead of the night, She stood in front of the mirror. In the company of her incompetence Struggling to drape a saree. Rustling noises Cacophony of expectations Jingle of the jhumka Burning kohl Ruddy lips Flushed cheeks Coloured manicured nails A bindi placed in the middle To hold together. Her ragged nerves Met face to face A woman Staring long and deep At lifeless cast aside skin. In her artwork Carrying a draped complex fabric The colours and hues The fragrance She set to walk in an arid landscape. Her feet bled To water the listless Her brow sweat To provide refuge Her eyes burnt brighter Than the scowling sun Her saree Turned into a bed of lush greenery As she lay to rest.