It all started with that red saree;
The red hands, the smiling faces,
That sindoor worn on her head with pride.
Celebrated by her family,
A goddess had come into their lives,
It all started with that radiant face;
Golden bangles, diamond earrings,
Her days filled with her child’s giggles,
Her husband’s laughter.
It all started as the hidden monster;
Shrouded as her dear mother-in-law
Bestowed her with love and her fake smiles.
Then came the reality;
Creeping in like a stormy night,
From a goddess to a slave,
She converted overnight.
The Naari we adorned with garlands,
The Durga we cherished,
Became the servant who was kicked,
For birthing yet another girl.
Beaten for being defected,
Not having a son, a crime for which she paid.
Then came the reality;
The mother-in-law’s slave,
A child bearer, no more,
The husband’s property, no more.
Along came the hidden truth;
The dowry, the snide remarks,
The ugly truth.
It all ended with that red saree;
The red hands, the broken smiles,
That sindoor worn on her head with fear,
Cursed by her family,
Her smiles stolen for life.
It all ended with that red saree;
Adorned just for show,
Insignificant was her happiness,
Empty was her soul.
-Pooja Aggarwal, V-III