The Indian Bride (inspired partially by Bhartesh Chaudhary's Post)

Over the long years when she struggled alone,
she learnt to live in less and in dignity
when her youth and her beauty was kept to hone
she never was the one for shame & pity

and along came the man who was a mirror
to her own simplicity & depth of soul
and he made promises to win her & love her
She, trusted him, slow and then in whole

Together they created dreams & worlds
their laughter shone like the rising sun
he would swerve in the smell of her curls
and she was sure that , he was 'the one'

Though Indians are still divided in 4 factions
and he was alas, but one above her
but their love was less words more actions
it was strong enough for differences, to cover

but they were wrong, she was wrong
she wasn't perfect or enough for the bond
the list of inadequacies in her was long
it stretched to her age, her family & beyond

and he nodded when they asked her to blend
and agreed to make her divorce her pride
unknowingly, he made her heart & soul rend
well, that's the price to be an Indian bride

She wondered about the promises and the vow
that they both silently undertook under the moon
the bond of equality- where was it now
was this the beginning to an end, so soon?

the answers lay buried somewhere in Indian mindsets
where daughters and brides are beneath sons & grooms
where dignity's quota is decided by a human's sex
and where an obligation on 'her', always looms

The truly liberated ones are either lost or rare
or the ones who are judged for their money or riches
in whose home a woman wont feel pride-bare
where her head is held high- and no one twitches

would she resign or rebel- no one would know
her heart,though, ached with yet another deceit
would she choose her respect over the good bride show
would she let go or attempt , all her life, to fit?

Excerpt from 'The Palace of Illusions'

"..Once a boy came running in from play and asked, Mother, what is milk? My friends say it is creamy and white and has the sweetest taste, second only to the nectar of gods. Please, mother, I want milk to drink.
The mother ,who was too poor to buy milk, mixed some flour in water , added jaggery , and gave it to the boy.
The boy drank it and danced in joy, saying, Now I, too, know what milk tastes like!

And the mother ,who through all the years of her hardship had never shed a tear, wept at his trust and her deception..."

- Chitra Bannerjee Divakaruni

"...I think of him now, ragged and lost, staggering across a desert, the path behind him littered with all the shiny little pieces that life has ripped from him.."
-Khalid Hosseini

A White Mountain

Among this crowd of vain

All engrossed in pain

I wait for the train

To a white mountain

They say it’s a place

Far away from this race

Where nature & god’s grace

Lay in a warm embrace

Where the birds play

And the squirrels run gay

where the setting sun’s ray

brightens a loner’s day

but the train’s too late

and yet I lie in wait

with a will that wont abate

and wont settle with mere ‘fate’

So I run with all my fire

And Will walk if I tire

Freedom aint just a desire

It’s a need no one can mire

Once there , I wont miss

The busy world & its piss

 I'll be lost & maybe reckless

And in rain, his lips I’ll kiss

Burn

Through the years that boil you

And the lessons that you learn

Let the fire not betray you

Each time, brighter, may you burn.

The bullets that rip your chest

& the cracks that make the heart churn

Let your scars screech, but in zest

O darling, higher, may you burn

For the love you lost & gained

And the deaths that had your concern

For the acid of your eyes that rained

I pray you never stop, but, burn

Let the flame consume your soul

Don’t cry if the gods are taciturn

World's blind to the ash of your whole

Don’t let the fire die. Till the end- burn.

You know not what your love means to me

A gush of breath to the drowning soul
Or a slight ripple caressing the morning sea

A tremor breaking the peace of dusk
On this barren land - a lone desert tree

A lull of hope in a burnt town
And a drug from which I can’t break free

A glue to the brokenness of my being
A paradox aggravating the heart’s melee

You know not what your love means to me

May you be Reborn

So much so far has been written and said
Stories have been shared, taught and read

Saints & sinners have all preached at length
And all have bowed to its mounting strength

Yet we all, long or small, will take the fall
"Love"- the beast, has a mystique too tall

Hard to resist , difficult to ingest
it makes us suffer ,but all in zest

But a mystery around it will forever loom
it will command consumption & it will consume

Impatient and vile, it's calm just the same
It brings great heights & to some, shame

Once in its spell, one has to remain
for the only exit is through hell & pain

However strong, it will strike you once
It'll bed your demons & scare your nuns

Its hope. Passion. Ecstasy . Madness
But in its wake, it'll render pangs of sadness

In a smile, in a tear and in a moan
It'll hit you when you're meek & alone

So- Beware- when the beast strikes, yet
Give in, for its gonna be one helluva bet

For it'll deliver you anew to the world forlorn
In its agonizing trance, may you be Reborn.