A Doll's Marriage

The shehnai plays in the backyard,

The guests come in scores,

The tents are set up,

The fire is burning.

The pandit is reading the mantras.

"Paa, will you come to my doll's marriage?"

She had asked, a month ago.

Flashes before her father all the memories,

She had dressed her two beautiful dolls

In sari and in dhoti,

And exchanged little garlands made of paper

Around a burning matchstick.

Today she sits in place of her doll,

Beside her is her to-be-husband,

A bike and half a lakh rupees is her dowry,

And her fate?

Broken as sharp pieces of glass.

She realizes this not,

Barely ten she is,

For her, this is another play,

She thinks she is the doll,

Dressed for the occasion,

Minutes later the play would be over,

She would rush to hug her father,

Laugh and scream

And eat the meagre mid-day meal,

Sleep on the charpoy

Outside in the dusty lane.

Only a day later she would realize,

Her own home is not her home anymore,

Where she had played with her dolls

Is no better than a memory.

A new home awaits her,

Strange people there to greet her.

So is the life of girls in villages,

To be married (sold) with a dowry,

Her fate isn't any better.