Bells ringing as Paati does her morning chants.
Anklets chiming, as the dancer next door warms up.
The neighbour with freshly washed hair circles her tulsi plants,
The bride entering her new home, tipping over the traditional rice cup.
Ma teaching my sister how to tie a sari,
As Hindustani music lessons begin downstairs.
The new bride fingering her almost sacred thaali,
Wondering if it’s the answer to her prayers.
22 and never been kissed,
Waiting for her husband to look her way.
Unsuspecting about his midnight tryst,
Believing every word her in-laws say.
Culture, music, dance, prayer,
Freshly brewed coffee, the smell of jasmine.
There are some things beautiful about South Indian tradition.
But not the 22-year-old with a 35-year-old-womanising husband.
3 comments:
Thank you for a glimpse into your life.
Nice poem, I am south Indian and I love the traditions too , (well most of them ). . .
In reference to your last line :
In any tradition or culture ##@$%$% will be ##@$%$%
what a brief but precise capture of the south!
i loved most is:
The neighbour with freshly washed hair circles her tulsi plants;
plus the freshly brewed coffee.
thanks for the post. so much of identification of self with it that it is very rooting.
Post a Comment