Another card arrives

Gold Spangled

Chanel scented

Golden anniversary.

 

 

Set me thinking.

Mine is just silver this year

Parties, now fill me with dread

Decline, a universal paradigm?

 

 

April is for anniversaries.

April is the wedding season. 

Long time for other festivals

Dasara- Diwali of most cheer.

 

He, lost in the deep pools 

Of kajal lined love.

She wreathed in dreams

Of Mills & Boon hero!

 

Wedding halls, 

Destinations

Silks and satins, jewels,

Scented ceremonies.

 

Planning lists of guests

Planning gifts

Planning sweet honeymoon

Planning for ever thence.

 

 

Whence the snakes sneak in?

Harsh words and tears

Gentleness flies out

Letting in wintry winds.

 

Life soon changes course

Stolid for some, stormy for most

Some endure, others rebel

What is success after all?

 

Do all couples shift gears?

Islands lost in the sea?

Or ships well lit but silent

Passing by in the night

 

Home has walls

But silence is thicker

Smiles are for parties

Words get sharper

 

April comes

Lotus comes up

Through the maze of life

Another gala anniversary.

 

All filth and hurt under the carpet

All smiles when meeting the guests

Does anyone care?

Any guest who comes?

 

“May I refill Sir?” “Yes the same”

Ardberg is his favourite.

Yesterday the flavour was another

The Macallan Sherry Oak.

 

 

 

She worries about the time

Not so much to get back home

The kids are safe, sleeping

But the whisky turns violent!

 

Do all parties entail

Post analyses, violent,

Just an excuse to fight

Ends in hot war or détente!

 

Marriage is a stormy sea 

First decade or two

A black eye, cut lip corner

Even a few fallen teeth!

 

Some ships sink

Some move ahead, tottering

Some busted hull

Some mastheaded

 

We meet at the party

All spruced up, neat

The broken frames suited and booted,

She dolled up, in full feather. 

 

 

 

Mumbai interiors are posh

Often dirty crumbling facade

The decade after marriage is similar

Only the reverse!

 

The crisp card fluttered in the breeze

I muse, when we reach years golden

Life also transmutes to golden

Just that silver’s nature is to tarnish!

Poem by Jija Madhavan Harisingh 

Read at KIC Poetry meet on 06/10/2024