The story of 'She'

She

Cradled and cuddled in the arms

of her doting mother,

she grew up listening to stories of

far-off lands from her grandmother.

As her tiny feet danced their way

through the fields of murmuring kashful,

her fun-filled laughter echoed in the air.

Her dreams carried the memories of

ballroom dances and eternal love,

adventures and picnics with friends

and loved ones-

these figments made their way through

reading of Austen, Blyton, and Alcott.

With time, as she grew, her roots

spread wider and deeper

into the essence of her homeland.

Then one fateful day, when the soul

opened to the light of becoming,

without her consent, deaf to her denials,

she was tied to the sacred vows of matrimony.

In an untrodden land, among unknown faces,

a new tongue, and queer people,

lost and disoriented, uprooted and misplaced,

like a fig tree, she felt utterly helpless.

The rigour of customs and rituals,

the bizarreness of must-dos

severed her carefree wings, which

once circled her lush green musings.

Slowly but firmly, she learned to heal,

to tend her wounds, bandage her wings.

Like the seagull, she must fly,

the soil shouldn't matter,

the roots must thrive.

Then with the wand in her hand

and sprinkling of words,

she inundated her pages with

poetic metaphors.

Her inner magic got revealed,

which had been silenced for years.

Yes, the words gave her might

and shield to her fears;

She then knew-

She, herself, bore the roots,

and thus gave wings to her prayers.

By Nandini Sengupta

@metaphors_of_life