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. 


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