In India when a daughter gets married they need to wear a red veil and red bindi on her forehead. It’s a symbol of married women. Also I would like to add that in India we call our mother Maa. Whether it is India or any other country, mother and daughter emotion is same.

THE QUEST

I’m in my autumn my child,

Your father’s departure made my life hollow.

My heart weeps when I recall him.

Now, I am stacked with responsibilities.

My eyes are craving to see you in a red veil.

My lifelong wish to see,

The vibrant red colour on your forehead.

My child, I searched a lot

But the suitable boy is in a remote, untouched land.

Is it my fault that I gave you birth ?

They tarnish our race.

‘Unity in Diversity’ is confined to papers.

They criticize on your shadowy tone,

Your knowledge is your gem,

And they ridicule it too.

Murky world, disgrace your devotion towards me

A devoted son is an honour,

Then why not a devoted daughter?

I begged at every door,

To search a suitable boy for you,

Sad folks always gave false hope.

Me too wish to nurture my grandchild,

Who will sit on my lap,

And I will wrap her tight.

With her, I will revive my childhood.

I asked to God:

Why a dummy smile people,

Enjoying an ecstatic life.

We have wisdom to be simple,

And thus our hearts are distorted every time.

Waiting for the new dawn,

In every verse there are some,

Unspoken silence.

(Answer To Mother…….)

MOSAIC of EMOTIONS

Be good, do good and receive good,

The age old phrase.

In this broken mixed-up world,

Do we always receive fruit ?

I am a scapegoat in the hands of time.

I longed to pass marital bliss.

A hand who will hold my hand,

A soul- soothing warm hug and worries disappear.

I pine for his presence.

Me too wish the paradise of motherhood,

That feeling when I will hold you in my arms, my child,

And embrace you in my chest.

I will play with you like a toddler,

Till we burst out with laughter .

Those precious moments when your grandma will sing a lullaby for you.

I am longing to see.

I hate mirror Maa,

Every time it reminds me of single shaming.

The lines on your forehead write the tales of an agonized mind.

I curse myself Maa to see you in pain,

And knowing the reason is me.

I know you are aching to see the luminous red vermillion on my forehead,

Will it fulfill in this birth?

The voyage for a suitable match is just an illusion.

They abandon me to see my worship towards you .

Pity mother with only daughter in the family.

In her declining years should I leave her all alone?

Can a groom do the same?

Our society is rooted in orthodox ideology,

Which need to be structured.

(Is it so difficult to give her a little space in son -in -law’s nest?)

Deepika Singh is an Indian native from Margherita, Assam. She holds an M.A. and a B.Ed. degree, by profession, a teacher. Her writings are a reflection of the everyday experiences she has. She thinks the correct words have the power to transform our culture. Her works were featured in various publications, including Sipay Journal, The Poet Magazine, Womensweb, Journal of Macedonia Scientific Society, Poetry Zine Magazine, Archer Magazine, etc. Additionally, her writings were translated into Hebrew, Chinese, Macedonian, Spanish, Serbian, Tajik, and Turkish. She also recited poetry on Kent’s BBC Radio.