The wrinkles under her eyes are married to the wrinkles beside her lips.
Her mookuthi shimmers under the afternoon sun. The sun yearns to be reflected in her ornaments. Her gold bangles clanged as she waved goodbye. Her saree pleats were fleeting.
From the way she smiles to the why she smiles
are a map of her journey throughout life.
One can only wonder if she adorned the same symphony of a big round scarlet sticker on her forehead thirty years ago. How she might've pleated her saree in the ripples of her youth( or did she simply put it over her then slender shoulders).
If she ever wished to capture the moon in her hair, her wish now fulfilled; her hair streaked with silver. Within a single bud of Brahma Kamal struck in her damp hair which had swallowed the " हंस की सफेद" .
Was she caught in an attempt to be beautiful again while unbeknownst to her,
The clouds that used to hide her now give way.
