'Grandmama, who is he?' the pretty, wide-eyed lass asked.
A grimace set on his lips; in his wrinkles stories were masked.
‘My child, look closely- it is your grand Grandpapa you behold.’
As Grandmama studied the painting, no longer did she look old.
'Tell me more, Grandmama!' A curious young lass was she.
‘Well darling child, here’s a tale- pray listen carefully.
When I was your age, young girls were made to clean and cook.
I was not sent to school, and never had I laid eyes on a book.
My father was a teacher, though he never did teach me,
One day during class, I was sent to serve him his evening tea.
He was father’s star pupil; the fateful month was May.
Our eyes met for the first time, and never could I look away…
The next day after class, together we snuck off gleefully,
Talking excitedly, hand in hand, we hopped from tree to tree.
Over two months, he presented me with a gift I really did need,
Armed with passion, he taught me how to write and read.
"…your daughter like a good Hindu girl must behave, Sir"
Villagers had too many eyes and ears; the rest was all a blur.
For his star pupil, Father’s classes no longer had room.
I was kept locked; the family hastily searched for a bridegroom.
The man they found was ugly, disrespectful, and arrogant,
Your Grandpapa found out; through my window a note he sent.
“Run away with me, my pearl. Life without you is lifeless”
That note was a bugle- it awoke me from my distress, oh yes…
We got married in a small temple and ran far, far away,
For three lovely years, there was not a melancholy day.
Alas my cruel father was not one to admit defeat, and so
Grandpapa was gone; baby in my arms, I was a helpless widow.'
'Grandmama, don't cry! Grandpapa is watching from above.'
‘Child, heed my advice: never must you be afraid to fall in love.’
The young girl studied the painting again- staring quite a while.
She could swear Grandpapa’s lips were now curled into a smile.
