Author Archives: Rajaram Ramachandran

An Indian Marriage Scene

It was a show in a marriage hall,
Stuffed with the invitees all,
All the chairs were found full,
No more vacant chairs to pull.

The Bridegroom poured,
On the Holy Fire sacred
Melted ghee over its head,
As mantras the Pundit read.

The smoky air all around,
The pipe and drum sound
Of the party at the hall end,
Made it noisy, we all found.

Over the noise of these rituals,
The shouts of boys and girls
The chit-chats of everyone
Shook the hall up and down.

To tie the three knots nuptial,
The Pundit alerted the couple,
Close around them in a circle,
All were asked to assemble.

It was a moment of tension,
All gave their prying attention.
Once these knots were done,
Then showered flowers like rain.

The piper then sang a melody,
That brought tears to everybody,
The tears of joy and sorrow mixed
At end of this ‘Muhurtam’ fixed.

Tears of joy because of union
Of the two bodies, but Soul as one,
And of sorrow for their separation
From their erstwhile relation.

His show the piper wound up,
For meals everyone rushed up,
The hall became empty soon.
The couple left for honey moon.

With a sigh of relief for the parents,
They started tallying the accounts,
The total spent by them how much
Minus gifts received how much?

A bud crushed under the foot

The day’s newspaper shook my heart.
I can only shed a tear on my part.
A heartless father shot her daughter.
It was like an animal slaughter.

Her love for a boy was the cause.
She married him as her choice,
Not with her parents’ consent
That led to their utter dissent.

Her father, to teach a lesson,
He invited the boy in person,
For a talk in a public place,
Just to break their alliance.

Her mother became serious,
Her father became furious.
When the talk failed at last,
As the kids stood steadfast.

Father had in his pocket hidden,
A pistol normally forbidden,
Two or three rounds he shot,
And gave the boy a chase hot.

The boy escaped with a wound,
But the girl fell dead on the ground,
Her life sucked up by bullets three,
From the pistol that flew free.

Oh God, when this gun culture,
From this earth will disappear?
Why a father kills his daughter,
O’er such a simple love matter?

What for he bred her for years?
Had their eyes dried of tears?
Many lost lovers history has seen,
Now one more added, fresh and green.