A Promise Over All Else Poem by Seema joglekar

The magic of myriad charms and spells did woo the heart to action and words, tender as dew and so very few, to keep alive to realize a promise. Love spent in wait with a heart in spate, unmindful of the clamber up the hill or the toss in foam.
Looks, sighs, gestures, glances all lent an eager hand, till woven words the progress of love could find, the fearless confidence that comes to your ardent call, to tread on higher course willed by destiny to stand tall.
And life's mature friendship gains fruition in autumn's plenty, weaving unseen bonds of union with our wishes, our tastes and our joys all alike, to strike the same chord in each heart. Till you see the hour that bore a lifetime with the desolate sweeping of the scythe of Time, in the lingering eloquence of love.
That hour has come, rise and be seen, and reach for a lifetime distilled in a second, to keep a promise over all else.
Stoop to my endeavor, dear, be only and forever, the Sun, Moon and Stars to me.
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Then she would arrive in your life decked in gold and heavy silk, and bring festivities in the sweep of her every smile, mogra chaplet in the knot of her hair to steal what is left of your peace. Quivering eyelids, parted lips and rapid breath will force their pace, on the jewels laid out with each hour in the daily reek of sweat.
To rival the brightest jewels that fail not to wink at each instance with sly secrets. The bridal pendant keep you mesmerized and true like a nimble deer with translucent eyes following every clue.
In the parting of her hair, the vermillion mark shall light a bonfire to all cynical queries and sizzling envy as she gives the helm of her life in your able hands.
She would train you in the dialect of her ornaments, and radiate the passions constrained in the knot of her hair and wrap you in the desires overflowing from the edges of her brocaded veil.
The bridal henna tint on her palms shall trace fortune and prosperity in their patterns, gifts, which have hung for long on her brow.
Her bangles could wreck a little havoc in your life but her bracelets would learn to tinkle and chant your name.
Her anklets would always remind her to maintain decorum and propriety wherever she went, for the house she represents.
The hem of her sequined garment shall keep her restrained within the bounds of tradition in keeping with her upbringing.
But then, you must keep your promise and love her for two seasons as a man is able.
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Don't you think you got her in exchange for a winnow of bran.
If she snores, don't smother her with a pillow,
If she argues, don't torch her with your glare,
If she chatters too much, don't shove her in the closet,
If she nags, don't hide her make-up,
If she burns the meal or strives to make it inedible, don't ask her to finish it,
If she takes too much time finishing her toiletries, don't stove away her ornaments,
If she demands more of your time, don't hide in the newspaper,
If she is negligent with her duties, don't tamper with the scales,
Don't tire her with your ardor, if you twist her limbs or break them, the loss is entirely yours
She may not be accomplished in the ways of devotion and wisdom, but she shall gradually learn,
She is the one you have chosen to stand by in all virtue
tTake her home and heavens would no longer be above but between.

SOURCE: BODO FOLK SONG—'MARRIAGE SONG'.

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Seema.j
3rd December-2014