My Marriage Has Come To Pass
by Fiza Pathan
It has come at last to pass,
My marriage is at hand in a few day time.
All these years I have been pondering
On an invisible consort
Among the pages of my Mills & Boons.
But by the decorative mehendi
That has been etched upon my palms
With a red gleam of blush,
I’ve found a husband.
There is a lot of rushing over the preparations of my binding day,
All my sisters now ring their golden bangles in glee
And the sun’s heat drenches
My salwar kameez of byzantine purple.
The piper goes on piping to his tune at day break
And the priest chants hymns to the god of love.
Jasmine flowers of white bedeck
My wavy long light brown hair
And my little nephew of three tickles my chin
As he takes my spouses holy name.
The kathak dancers have arrived to enclose
This conclave of festivity with their sprightly dance.
My dear sire looks about for the sweet meats
To distribute in gladness to all the flower girls.
They with their delicate nimble like fingers
Make up long garlands of rose petals,
There is orange, red and pink
My heart is all a glow with their fragrance.
Betel leaves are offered to the elderly ladies of the house
While the men sing the praises of my beloved one.
Who is this mate of mine?
What be his nature?
He is a stranger in sight to me
But the groom of my destiny forever.
My Mother sprinkles a sweet smelling yellow lotion upon my feet
Saying words about the eternal paradise of the wedded.
The whole ancestral home is running in haste to greet
Their new entrant into this new chapter of romance.
I am surrounded by my cousin sisters
Who tease me with their jovial giggles.
They are like enchanting Saturns
Revolving around the stationary Sun
Who be it but me who chews a walnut in hunger.
The horoscopes have a melody of stars following their charts,
We are made for each other.
To the gods are given holy sacrifices to please them
So that by the next monsoon upon my lap
Shall sleep a son, child of a past pregnant moon.
Today I am mesmerised by his achievements
And I shut my mascara heavy eyes in peace.
The odour of cooking oil from the giant pans
Rise up to provoke me to call out
His sacred name upon my dry pink tongue.
May this gaiety last for a lifetime in my senses
Until the ages pass on by towards the end
I don’t wish to be separated even in death.
Truly it has come to pass my marriage awaits,
The wedding of many families shall come to custom past.
Copyright Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy; Google images,