By Greeshma Mathews
Before I felt the touch of your sacred thread,
Rain meant cool nights, scary winds that
Whistle throughout the night. I used to watch each
& every drop falling from heights during my
Spinster days, assigning them names &
Sharing my weird thoughts.
It has changed now; I did not know it was
Raining heavily, yesterday. Felt surprised,
How could I miss the rains?
Moist leaves in the courtyard were
Looking to my eyes expecting an answer.
It was not to reveal.
The trees were still green and sky was still blue.
But I could not withstand with the morning
Breeze as yesterday I found my secret abode.
Craving warmth, we defrost into one;
I hear no roaring seas, and piercing rain,
As I was made deaf and dump.
Bloomed and withered countless times.
Found myself in a giant wheel in great heights.
Crushed marigold and wild orchids blushed in crimson.
Though we walked miles and miles, found
It no weary. Forest was thick & enticing.
I was then unaware that I will throw
Twelve gems from my womb
Mercilessly to observe my duty
As a wife in future.
Children, Forgive your mother.
Scholar was your father, yet failed
In a worthless battle with fate.
He expertise over the philosophies &
Fell abortive in riddles of life.
Pleading to have mercy upon your
‘so-called’ father & mother
I closed my ears as I often hear whimpering
From my mouth-less infant, the last gem.
Years later, our curse was broken,
Found us standing with our abandoned gems.
His eyes was filled with water &
Touched my wound, he once made.
We stood with admiration, adjacent to the
Twelve clans & found moonlight in glory.