Red Bangles

by 21:31 0 comments

 The past, the future and these beautiful red bangles, 

Shimmer in my kohl filled eyes as I braid my tangles.

And walk out of innocence, still dwelling in my memory.

Soon to be a pawn, in this world’s big felony.


Draped in excitement, curiosity and fear, 

I walk into society, wearing nothing but a tear.

Eyes wide, feet hesitant, but head held high,

And thus begins my life, as innocence dies.


Fear in my heart, but steel in my eyes,

Leaving behind, all the weeks of my cries.

I enter the domains of another man, 

And become a part of a different clan. 

 ...

Therein begins the journey of this blessed girl, 

As her dreams and wishes, start to unfurl.

When she leaves the safety of her own home, 

And travels to another one, absolutely alone. 




Sindoor on her forehead, as a beautiful bride, 

At 13, she becomes someone else’s sole pride.

And the mangalsutra on her neck, to be there each day, 

Conveys that she will be his, in every little way. 
……

That day I’m born a woman, in an alien domain, 

Of all my innocence, very little does remain.

Eventually I grow to be his, a bit every day,

And become a wife who has little say. 


He orders me around, slashing my happiness, 

I am devoid of any hope, a slave to distress.

And gradually he takes everything that once belonged to me,

While I become a part of him, for the remnants of eternity. 


But death plays its cards well, I lose the final hand,

My husband dies on this sinful, wretched land.

And for the first time ever, I feel unbearable pain. 

I hear myself shout, though hopelessly in vain.


And then I touch silence, utter and absolute.

Have a taste of my misery, deafeningly mute. 

And I feel reason, stalking away from me,

I see my numbness, denying the reality.


This sadistic life, played a cruel joke on me, 

Along with his, death tears away my life for free. 

A widow has no standing, cruel is this society.

And I bow down now, for this is the almighty.   

I take my last breath, on my dearest’s pyre,  

Kneeling down, I embrace, this deity of fire.

And forsake this world, to accompany my protector,

In death as in life, trading my dreams for his shelter.


It might not be fair but it is what is true, 

Because fair does not matter to me or to you. 

What matters now is, that this is our tradition.

What matters now is, there is no other rendition.

...

With tears in my eyes, I walk into my beckoning grave,

No matter what I wish, I could never have been saved.

Because I am just another slave to this pristine tradition,

Becoming another part in society’s strange affliction.


Today I bid farewell to the shadows of my time, 

A disjointed life, I lived, without rhythm or rhyme.


Torn hopes, dreams and broken red bangles, 

Lay spread on my table as I hide my tangles,

And walk into a cloak of a simple little felony, 

Becoming but a figment, of society’s memory.