Sunday Poem: Waiting For The Groom

When the Mehendi grew dark
In the wee hours of the morning
She woke up to the smell of it
And began to imagine
How he would lose his senses
By the intoxicating aroma.
Months of preparation
Will finally bear fruit today
Relatives swarmed round her
To apply the auspicious haldi
She kept blushing
Till the yellow looked pink
On her virgin skin.
She looked into the mirror
More often than ever
She did not know how
She could look
More enticing than
She did in her entire life!
Decked up as a bride
She could pass off
As Bollywood actress Madhuri
Her heart began beating faster
As the time of Baraat
Approached nearer.
One glance of him
Would make her crazy
Something would churn in her stomach
As if she had never seen him before.
She kept waiting
Till her eyes grew flickery
Almost like the tiny lights around
Usually she was patient
But today she began to grow restless.
There was a call
What followed was an uncanny silence
The Baraati bus upturned and fell into the cliffs
So did her dreams.
With the passing days,
The Mehendi grew darker
She recollected her friends teasing her
He would love her to death
Because of the henna growing richer
She kept staring into
His name on her palms
Where does the name go
As the body reduces to ashes?
He perished, but not his name
His soul still immersed in hers.
The smell from her palms
Suddenly seemed ominous
The bridal trousseau seemed useless
But she continued to wait
No one knew why…

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