In the halls where laughter fades,
She entered like a gentle wave,
A saree draped in tender flow,
With icy black eyes, soft and slow.

Her beauty, a secret, serene,
As if the stars in her gaze had been,
And when the bangles sang their sound,
He saw her world, so rich, profound.

When He saw Chauhan in that saree’s grace,
A thousand thoughts began to chase,
The fabric’s folds, the shimmer’s glow,
Like a timeless story, soft and slow.

Her elegance, both bright and pure,
A sight so rare, it felt unsure—
As if the world had paused to see,
Her beauty, a quiet melody.

Amid the cheers of mock parliament’s might,
She stood so poised, a radiant light,
Her voice, a song that soothed the air,
Her steps, a dream beyond compare.

A moment caught between the days,
A memory wrapped in golden haze,
He watched her move with quiet grace,
Her presence bright, a shining face.

And when the bell rang out its song,
We walked the path where hearts belong.
In the bus, Yadav felt a quiet fire,
As she wore her mother's gentle attire.

With hands that trembled, soft and light,
He helped her with a simple plight—
Her bangles, precious as the dawn,
A task that felt like nothing wrong.

For if they broke, the world would weep,
A mother’s love, too vast, too deep.
So with a touch, and care to spare,
He eased her worries, unaware.

No words were spoken, just a silent glance,
In silence, they shared a fleeting dance.
For beauty stays in moments small,
In fleeting moments, where hearts stand tall.