Thursday, 25 April 2013

A Mehendi Tale


Remember , I , her 
A gracious smile and Godly art . 
Down the memory lane , where she sat , 
Lone to herself .

Each day , many , went and by
None who failed to be awed by her skill . 
And soon she , heart throb of crowds ,
For she drew dreams , well shaded
And gave it hues in their palms ,
To cherish , to pamper , to relish !

A yard away you are ,
The herbs aroma lures you .
And  you get there , to get ,
Rewarded by a beaming smile .

The wonder she weaves out of the tiny pastels ,
Beauty in itself  , Mehendi you call it !
Weddings and bdays , parties and weekends .... 
When your heart longs to see your hands blush -
In dark , a tinge of sunset ,
You dash to her , her magic ,
And return to hail her !

She craved too , to feel the blush of cheeks , 
To be adorned in red ,
To get bound in a knot of nuptial 
But , who a groom would like a bride , 
with no hands at all !

Leaves fell and petals bloomed
Time flew and mists of life cleared , for her .

They now brushed beauty in palms ,
She with her lips , made art on your hands
And he in a chair with wheels , painted palms with the paste.
Together , shaped they a nest of love
with and for ... each other !