The Pastels Took Over

Her subtle delicate wrists were strengthened, by fragile red glass bangles 

She adorned them each day with joy, despite the rashes 

She worshiped her mangal sutra, those black and golden beads

Gave her the sense of eternal goodwill and love

The traditional sindoor sprinkled everywhere from her forehead to nose, over the cheeks and clothes 

She endured the fact of being wrapped in the color red

Her nails not a single day without a paint

Even though they were chipped or stained

Yet, she over coated them, glazed them beautifully,

Making her look like a bridal saint

She was a devotee of loud and aggressive colors

Believed in being noticed like a festival each day

Her diamond-studded oxidized toe rings, the bells on anklets, the aalta

Breathed peace into her daily life, to convey

How it was an offense when one suggested, for her to try pastel-colored dresses 

She, in her sassy sixties, was judged for wearing flashy tones

Pastel colors used to make her nervous

She’d scream and say “Why have mellow yellows?” “Why the sky blues?”

Or the off whites or even whites as a tragic truth

When one can wear promising yellow & feel life bloom

She knew she may have to clothe in them one day

To a stereotype widow’s attire as a sign of display

Her love, who was already gloomy and sick, battling for life

She’d ensure he had a beautiful sight

She would doll up each day, like a new bride 

Yes, her heart sank seeing her husband fade away,

And soon striked a date

Where her jewelry came off with the heaviest of the weight

And when he was laid to bed on the deep brown wood

Her aalta stained hands, felt his cheek for one last time and the time withstood

The fumes eventually turned him into ash grey

The coal-black smokes scared her favorite colors away

She lost not one, but two desires at a time

Her colorful world broke apart, the reds were in decline 

And then the pastels took over

The pastel mellow yellows, the dull beige browns

The sky blue hues, with the off white scarfs and stalls

Replaced the red ravishing sindoor with white vibuthi on the forehead

Eyes weary of any kohl, just plain sore muscle pink lower lids

Filled with pain, that pastel odor took over her loss as gain.