Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
She got her God at last.

Bathed and in white saree
she offers him his choicest food
burns his favorite incense
sits with him to converse
about the day and events
argues to make her point
smiles at his complaint
of less salt or more sugar
cries at his question
if she misses him
as much as he misses her
and the two reach out to each other
more than all the years
of seeking the fulcrum
to balance the bond.
Prathipa Nair Jun 2016
Met her on a rainy day
Day, that changed my life
Walking to my bus stop
With my umbrella open
Waiting for my bus to come
That happened in a second
Clashing with someone's
Umbrella of rainbow colour
Putting my head out
Looking for the owner
Twirled a typhoon above
Up above my head
A moon in a sky blue Saree
Came out of her umbrella
Turning to me with a smile
Of shining diamond tooth
Her eyes blinking like
Fishes swimming in a sea
Opening her mouth like
A singing of a cuckoo
Apologising with a sorry
Before I speak a word out
Of my unconsciousness
Left behind only rain and me!
Gargi Apr 2018
i tuck in the right end
of the saree
checking for excess at the bottom,
like revising, rewording, deleting words
from a poem.
turn once,
tuck in again
make up my mind about
how i want the pallu,
like i decide the end
before writing the beginning.
then comes the folding
which i invariably get wrong
the first time
every time
much like the infinitely pressed
backspace key, followed by
almost desperate slapping of keys.
i breath a sigh of relief
as i pin the pallu, content,
before i move on
to the daunting gathers -
the middle of the poem
that looks the same for all
but i convince myself otherwise
and look in the mirror
and find a poem smiling back at me.
Desperate attempts at keeping up the challenge in the face of semester exams look something like this
Krishnapriya Jun 2018
Time enfolds me in layers
like the creases in a saree
the petals in a rose
from childhood to youth
and then on to middle age
then to elder-hood
and then?

To that moment in time
when we are free from time

the rose blooms
absolved from this body
dissolved in eternity
Blessed in the freedom
Of the soul
Prathipa Nair Jun 2016
Walking through the streets
Of my beautiful village
Decorated with lights
Of rainbow colours
Breathing natural fresh air
Stopping by the banyan tree
Seeing men sitting under it
In their mundu and shirts
With thin and thick golden lines
Engaged in their louder chat
Boys in their new dress
Busy with their activities
Girls in full skirt and blouse
Of different golden designs
Sitting in the temple veranda
Tying garlands of flowers
Laughing out louder for
Jokes of their own world
Inside the temple kitchen
Busy preparing his sweet rice pudding
The priest, joining the
Girls wit with a simple smile
A group of women looking
Traditional in their Kerala Saree
Tied hair with jasmine flowers
It was a day of festival
Comes every year with a delight
Pleasing the Deities, for
The divine blessings of
Prosperity and happiness
In this village of togetherness !
Prathipa Nair Jun 2016
School, nearby his house
Where she teaches English
Present in front of his house
Seeing her passing by
In the morning and evening

Slim and beauty was she
Looking attractive in a Saree
Eyes drawn with black kajal
Where eyebrows are like a bow
And a small black dot on her forehead

Like a painting slipped out of a canvas
Walking on the road
Crossing his eyes all the way
Perplexed was he about
The black eyes noticing him

Waiting to express his love
In his usual stand of gate
Highly strung to make his attempt
To the girl who impressed him first
Making him madly fall for her

Like a thunderbolt did she
Walking towards him
Looking into his confused eyes
Opening her rose petal lips
Dropped some pearl like words
I Too Love You Dear !
Saanvi Sep 2024
The goddess looks breathtaking
In her red saree, an emblem of marriage.
Her skin is soft to touch,
Yet she carries a heavy sword in her hands.
The goddess looks serene and calm,
Only that she is about to **** the darkness of demons who are awaiting their freedom.
The goddess wears Kohl in her eyes,
Only to smudge it with her tears.
As she wins the battles plunging the heart out of evil.
The goddess is a mother, she wears red bangles, a colour for both womanhood and rage,
Intertwined and interconnected since the beginning of time.
The Goddess has given birth to her children
with great pains and no agony can beat her strength.
As Devi would not hesitate to become a bloodthirsty Kali
To protect her children.
Divine femininity I bow to you.
Men can only know the power of violence,
But Devi knows the power of love,
How in times of war, it can be our biggest weapon.
Fueled by the energy to **** not out of hatred or Revenge,
But love that led a Mother to pick up arms
So she could protect us all
from the evil that harbours within.
Devi is divine feminine and I bow to her.
She has been created from the strength of all mothers and sisters and daughters.
She tells us the ancient tale of
how women always have had the hidden strength
To leave trails of destruction, only when forced.
Devi does not bleed every month only to be scared of the blood of
evil rakshasas on her hand.
The goddess will happily drink it
And decorate her hands with the demon's blood,
Spreading it on her fingers like red henna.
Devi looks focused, almost peaceful as she kills Mahishasur.
She doesn't want the glory of power.
Her only truth is love.
Even in the heat of battle, Devi's beauty shines through.
Divine Feminine, I bow to you.
Divine Femininity, I bow to you.
MuseumofMax Nov 2021
Deep ruffled hair
She smells of sweet jasmine and Desi cooking

She emanates her culture
And shared it with me

She swirls around the room in a deep red saree
Her little sister watches inspired

A teacher with a good heart
Never failing to understand

A friend with a sweet smile
Never wanting to pretend

She is perfect in every way
And yet not

That’s why I like her
Oh and she’s hot
A little poem about my best friend
YESHA Mar 2020
//WHY TO COMPROMISE??//

To complete the  remaining dreams or be happy in this so called relationship?????
To sit quite or take stand against it???
To go wherever I want or to take care of family???

To sit and listen to all tantrum of family or be free bird???
To be a great business women or just a normal housewife???

To wear saree,dress or what I want to wear???

Whether to take permission for the thing I love or do whatever I want???To divorce or be happy In this so called marriage???
Should I compromise and be happy???
COMPROMISE,isn't big deal....!!!
But,
Why to compromise????
When you can fly like a free bird...
Why to compromise,
When you can earn,
You are independent...

‌Find someone who is there with you at every stage of life!!!

Why to compromise??
If you want to wear bikini,wear it!!!
Why you have ask others that should I???
Why????

If you want to go,GO why you have to ask someone else???

Why to compromise???
When you can laugh loud,
Be happy in your own world,
Believe in yourself and you would never have to compromise....

Never think,
Whether I should???
You can and you should!!!...

Why to compromise????
.
.
"WHY TO COMPROMISE??"
.
‌~YESHA🌻
Why girls have to compromise in every situation.
Why they can't complete there dreams and why they have to ask other for permission....
Gargi Apr 2018
In her soft cotton saree
paired with the any blouse she finds,
with her spectacles hanging around her neck
from an ancient brown string,
my grandmother reads
the miniscule font on her phone -
squinting, struggling, adjusting
but never giving in
to old age.
He said ‘You must be the cause of traffic on the road’
She said ‘Huh?’
He said ‘So many cars parked everywhere’
She said ‘You mean in that photo?’
He said ‘Yes’

And with that, she sighed deeply while secretly hoping he actually meant her with her saree…
Ana Habib Apr 2018
Lifeline

He is blessed with all that his parents have provided him with
He did all that he could as the eldest son in the family
But life began when he met her…
She came into his life at ‘92
March 7th 1992 to be exact
It was all arranged
The elders knew best and the rest was up to them
He though she looked great draped in her fuchsia saree and green eye shadow
Maybe just a little on the thin side though
The wedding so no special affair
But he knew that he had married a special girl and he was the lucky one
She smiled all the time no matter what the weather was like outside
She always did what as asked of her and much more
She was a team player but quickly won all the hearts in the household
She was quiet and tad shy but always praise-worthy
She worked tirelessly
Cooked passionately
Love unconditionally
She faced many hardships till now
But did not let her patience waver one bit
Or let time erase any of the hope stored in her heart
For a better future
A brighter tomorrow
Away form unnecessary comparisons between other wives, back biting, complaints and exaggeration
Despite all that she never wiped the smile off her face
As months turned to years it got smaller but never completely faded away
She worked hard at creating a perfect house
Perfecting her cooking and artistic skills
Keeping the peace among other family members
While achieving all of that she also taught him a few things down the road
She taught him how to hold on to his temper when he was about to loose his cool
She taught him how to hold on to his patience when he become anxious and started talking *******.
She taught him how to hold hos tongue and swallow his pride
She taught him when to take a step back and when to stop talking
He still has not learnt that one yet!
She paid heed to his words whenever there was no one else to listen to him
She stood beside him when he was lost
He hated asking for directions
Together they spent 25 years together and I hope they get another 50 more
I am not sure how it all passed by
Mom kept it all together
But the house is empty now
Looking neglected and shabby without her touch
The food tastes bland
My father cannot sleep
His cycles have become broken and interrupted
My siblings hide themselves in the comfort of their rooms
Keep busy with school and work
But a locked door is not strong enough to block out the sounds of their muffled cries
We all hope and we all pray
But there is no telling when she will walk through that door and bring life into this house
Please come back soon Mom!
Krishna Mehra Jun 2018
Do you think that caste, religion, race and creed become obstacles in the path of love?
I think love has no barriers.
Draped in a red saree
with heena patterns on her hands, beautiful bangles on her wrist
  gold necklace covering her neckline  
She is right now the most happiest person on the earth.
The happiness behind the lids of her eyes
reveals how love has made her break all the shackles.
Marrying a man whom she love , despite of his caste and religion
True love truly exists
It just requires blessings to bloom.
Sukanya Basu Aug 2019
Young Mohan was three by the time
Borders were made
And an angry facist peddler sung in disdain,
Sentiments were breached and so was time,
There were bloodsheds more often by the time he was nine;
In patriotic leu and an abundant of moral synecdoche
Religion, apathy, martyr meaning terrorism
Young Mohan was thrown
As a vendor who stole money
And saw women on screen,
The green had gone green
Humanity was a partake on films
Flimsy films and orange bandanas
Verbal stench ruining the hymn of jove,
Topsy turvy Independence naught,
Mohan had seen women with tops
And women without them,
He had seen them dressing with conch flowers delicate on their boudoir of black facade,
And he stared to what the Country had become
In the orange lights of Saree,
And the spit of beetle juice,
His country was sold.
Lalit Kumar Apr 1
I sit, the world around me a blur,
Masi talks, but I’m lost in a stir.
Then, the call—unexpected, sharp and bright,
My heart leaps, racing into the night.

Why her, why now? My thoughts collide,
A hundred questions swirl, but none I can hide.
Should I pick up? Should I dare?
Her voice, her presence, it’s too much to bear.

The call drops—disconnected, left to wonder,
My heartbeat thunders like distant thunder.
Then the text, a playful jest,
"Yes, Your Highness," my chest does protest.

She replies, “I need to show you something,”
My pulse quickens, anticipation thumping.
A mystery, a pull, but I can't resist,
I pick up the phone, nervous, clenched fist.

She speaks, her voice like an old, sweet song,
And I hear laughter, where I belong.
But there’s more—Her friend by her side,
And their boyfriends, caught in the tide.

My heart skips—Romantic rival stands, so near,
And I can’t look away, trapped in fear.
She tells him to shut up, her voice a command,
And I watch, helpless, as life slips from my hand.

She turns, showing her saree’s glow,
A princess in pink, stealing my soul.
And I ask, “Are you at Lawgate?” with a smile,
She teases, “MBA,” for just a while.

“I’ll come back too,” I say, trying to play,
But inside I ache, like I’ve gone astray.
Her image haunts me, her beauty remains,
A moment lost, wrapped in chains.

Her voice soft, “Later,” she says with a sigh,
And I stand there, watching her leave, asking why.
She’s with him now, and I’m here, lost,
Her laughter echoes, my heart pays the cost.

We never were, yet we shared it all,
In the same PG, memories that call.
The quiet nights, the shared glances, the unsaid truth,
Now lost in time, like forgotten youth.

Her image stays, as vivid as then,
A beauty, a mystery, forever my friend.
Yet she walks with him, and I stand apart,
A stranger to her, with a broken heart.

Her smile, her saree, the memories remain,
But my heart races, lost in the pain.
Romantic, yes, but sadistic too,
For I loved her then, and still do.
JP Nov 2017
In a party
she wore a saree
showing
her navel and
seducing
Is it her
way of saying??
touch and pursue
you will find
a deeper one...
Md Iqbal Hossen Jan 2018
I wish I could see you in this moonlight night
Beside the lake and evergreen tea garden.
I would hold your hand to tell my unexpressed story.
I wish, I could see you with a blue saree
Like these fresh leaves as my blue angel
As I dreamt and captured in my heart.
I could fly with you in the Boccus chariot
And masmarise with the immortal tone of nightingale.
Urge to take a fly from this worldly pain.
Ruhani Mar 2019
I still remember the day
sitting idle in the lab mundane
Smell of acid although causing pain
But i was still taking in,
like a toxic gain.
And then she came in
like a soft gush of wind
sat beside me
saw me all strained.
I asked
why people leave
without giving reason
and I poured my heart out
like a kid with a toy broken.
I was inconsolable
as if I saw death of a closed one.
and that closed one was my heart
deep inside it was fallen apart.
And then she told
me a hard truth
how she loved her mom
who left part way
without witnessing her triumphs
her chosen love and all fame .
How she all wanted was to gift her a saree
and take her to a restaurant to feast fancily.
I looked into her eyes
and she into mine
we both lost a part
of our hearts
and we together washed away
the pains filled deep inside
I was crying over a lost love
and she over a lost soul
and I wondered
whether my pain was even worth despair
we walked through our pain
while finding life all regained.
Philipp K J Jul 2021
Dear All, I'm sorry
I was told to smile
But I couldn't hold my tears
They cracked jokes saying
I look like a bride
But I could not smile
My curved pale lips turned a smiley
But my eyes flooded with tears..

I felt something unusual when they bathed me and dressed me with cotton Saree and blouse and  dabbed
My face with talcum powder and combed and tied my hair.

They were busy putting on golden studs in my ears and a long golden chain on my neck. I knew death is near. I heard and I felt death.. close behind me.

My favorite cloth smelt death
The golden chain and ear rings
Were chiming death knells
Sorry...  
I could not smile.
For who can smile at the face of death.
My grand daughter seems to have seen my heart.
She held my both cheeks in her soft hands and kissed me and pressed her rosy cheeks against mine.

No sweetie I am not crying something went into my eyes...
I comforted her.
Really?
Yes dear. Something went. I wiped...

The photographer took the snap and it was good. But my flooded eyes betrayed the gurgling hot tears I was holding beneath my throttle..
Sorry... Sorry,  I know this is my post death photograph.....Obituary Photo!

I wished I could have posed for a better snap..pardon me I am sorry!
Uma natarajan Jul 2018
An old lady with a worn out saree
Feels not so free
Wearing all torn and tattered
And never ever battered
Continues to draw her dreams
With her song' s screams
She sits with support on mud plastered wall
Her shriek is all over spread tall
Her hut is near the sea
But the blue sea does not fill glee
And the waves bring no smile on her face
She looks at the sky searching for heaven with grace
On the sand she searches the earth
And the lost happiness and mirth
Sun, moon and stars give  her company
A monkey sits with her on her agony
She has frustration all the year
Her long sigh never ends and is dear
Ana Habib Aug 2019
Man Hunt

The Moon is out
The air feels just right
almost romantic
She will out on a hunt tonight
The woman in white
with windy dark tresses down her back
Wearing a pale colored saree molded especially for her frame
It sparkles in the light
The anklets dance on her two feet and the thin belly chain shimmers with her mesmerizing gait
She sighs and continues down the road
Not a soul in sight
Walking with only with the help of a kerosene lamp
Which further illuminated her features
the light continued to splash on her face
revealing iridescent eyes
maroon lips
and the smallest beauty mark above the upper lip
She is on the hunt for a man
One who will keep her company and fill her appetite
There is no type but it has to be a man
in the 24-30 range
they taste the best and make her feel extra feisty in the mornings
There is something in the distance
a big burly type thing
holding something
He makes his way closer to her
She looks tantalizing he thinks and smiles to him self
the woman in white quickens her pace and makes her way to him
He doesn't ask for details as their eyes meet and stay locked on each other
How much further do we have to go
why not just start here
she laughs in the dark
no baby just a little further
She continues walking to her small cottage
in the middle of nowhere
where there is no security and no distractions
He smiles at her so gullibly  
and follows her unaware of his fate
This is going to be so much fun
she thinks to her self
Kyrie Hajashi Apr 2021
Oh what I can do to see and wonder
Upon the sky's garments?
That blue coat over her silver-lined feathers
And her violet robe over her silver emblems.

That red saree which on many morns I swoon
And her black dress that hides a hundred moon.

When the music of the wind is despondent
And cold, a grey sweatshirt she'll put on,
Stitches of tears etched on the firmament ,
what's the color of depression? of mourn?

But when the globes has stopped its flow
And her gilded crown regain its place,
She'll don, with swelling pride, her rainbow
Scarf and her cardigan, pearl as her face.

Oh what I can do to wonder and see
Her gowns, her armor, her star'd necklace
To write in characters, to write in poesy
Her eyes, her storm, her star'd fingers.



                                     the sunset marches in
                                     the sun leaves, she stays
                                     the morn slips in
                                     the moon leaves, she stays
                                     garments and all.
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.
First Time In Saree
Lalit Kumar Apr 8
I saw you again, not in presence, but in light,
A flicker in the reel, a whisper in the night.
Your hands, adjusting your saree with grace,
Unaware, you burned your name on my gaze.

In a crowd of colors, you were the calm,
A breeze in winter, a hush in a psalm.
I laughed at my heart, stubborn and wild,
Still dreaming of you like a foolish child.

They say fate draws lines we cannot bend,
That some stories are not meant to transcend.
But I—
I have danced with the idea of us in my mind,
In a parallel world where rules are kind.

You wore tradition like a crown that day,
And I, a silent poet, looked away.
But in dreams, I held your hand, so light—
Not to keep, just to feel it once right.

They won’t let me call you mine, I know,
Same roots, same echoes, that’s how these go.
But hearts don’t know of caste or clan,
They bloom when they simply can.

So if you ever wonder, even in disguise,
Why a breeze feels familiar, or tears just rise—
Know this:
You were a chapter I couldn’t rewrite,
A light that warmed me… then slipped out of sight.

— The End —