Old is Gold

 

Shell Shield

shell shield(This poem has been penned based on urban life settings browsed over from newspapers, heard on corporate floors and in hostels)

His story
He loved her, and she used him
She demanded - this, that and what not
He gave her all, and debt piled
In the end, she left
He had no thread to tie her to him
Losing her, he turned glum
Her story
She loved him, but he did not know her
Gargi's sister she was
Her love like rubies fell on a monkey
He knew no rubies, he knew gold
Letters are mere alphabets
All his village folks know his worth in lands and gold
She looked into the horizon, where the rainbow spread
She walked ahead for letters more

Their story
The broken he met the dreaming her
At her nephew's thread ceremony
Friends tied the broken him with the desirable her
A boat was built
It rose high with waves
And fell with the waves
The marriage, an inter-caste one,
It survived the vagaries of social tongues
The desire threw the curtains
The broken him touched the dreamy her
The music played, the light shone
He tightened his palm, rituals stronger
Her softness melted in his grasp
She gasped for breath, she panicked in love
Yet there was charm in that high rise balcony view
She cooked more food and comforting words
He had it all and gave her more
He wrapped her doubly in care
The baby and him
Letters lost, beliefs grew
She gave up letters-fetters
Remained secured in sofa, sarees and kitty parties
There is no caste in the drawing room
Except the cups and plates in the kitchen shelves
A fight here and a fight there
The crooked caste comes up so near
She drowns herself in puja-patth and astrology channels
Their child
The child grows, survives in the obc list
Time for match making came
For the grown up child found none to offer a rose,
Kundalis piled upon the glass table
With notes added 'SC/STs please excuse'
Yet nothing pleasing came for long
Brand names, ctc, address highlighted
"My mom's a Brahmin" was also tagged in
Finally, from South the brown girl at office proposed
Her father has pots of gold
Earned from grandma's mom and the Congressi guvment post
After all what's in colour, everything fades
Except caste
Isn't it time to repeat, louder again, Old is gold?

~~~

 

Shell Shield is a Language Instructor with Jazan University, Saudi Arabia. I spend my free time cooking, recycling old clothes, learning new things and going on long walks.