The Vermilion Bride

For my whole life, I have been constrained by red,

The red kunkuma swiped across my head,

The red sacred ties of devotion and loyalty,

The red sea that continues to breathe life out of me,

Alerting strangers around me of my fertility…

And the red saree tying me to a man forever.

How can red be so dangerous for me?

The shade of rage that tears apart my sanity,

The shade of hate that calls into question my loyalty,

The shade of fear that removes me from amnesty.

When will red let go of me?

It started with a visit to the temple,

A smile at a bride.

And a question in my mind:

“What is that red dot on your head?”

I would never have guessed,

It would come to be the red dot of chastity.

When it is my time,

I, too, must don this red,

A red of passion,

A red of commitment,

A red of motherhood,

But no one warns you of the isolation.

I breathe life, and I kill life.

The red of the dot is the red in me,

Thriving blood,

Ready to break through societal loyalty.