Jay P Narain

Freshman - 557 Points (Jan.1945 / Bihar, India)

Going To An Indian Party - Poem by Jay P Narain

On a beautiful Saturday morning,
I was enjoying my first hour of rest,
reading my favorite newspaper,
the flowers were blooming in the garden,
the golden sunshine was brightening my heart.
My wife came to join me somewhat half awake,
her beautiful face coming out of her flowing hair,
reminded me of the moon coming out of clouds.
She pronounced in the wishpering voice,
we are going to a party tonight.

After finishing my breakfast,
I went on my computer,
to surf and read more news,
and skim thorugh my junk emails.
My wife reminded me again,
dont spend too much time,
with your computer mistress today,
as you have to finish all the house work,
before we go to the party tonight.

I started to do my yard work that late morning,
the light wind breeze and mild spring sunshine,
made my gardening seem like a wonderful chore.
I see my wife coming toward me,
I was happy that she would give me a hand,
I will enjoy all the pleasures of doing things together,
She softly anounces her inability to work together,
as she has to go for hair care and manicure.

Time passes, it is early afternoon,
I hear my wife asking me to come to the bedroom.
I go upstairs to our bedroom,
she is sitting on the bed,
with all the bright and colorful,
sarees and salwar kameez.
She seemed perplexed,
asks me what should I wear tonight in the party.

Saree selection is the toughest puzzle in my life,
does the green silk saree match her spirit tonight,
or red georgette saree match her skin tone for the night.
I was dumfounded with all the selection,
I told her, you look pretty to me in all the sarees,
and even if you came to me wearing rags,
I would think that my beautiful dream lady was emerging,
from the deepest ocean of love.

After some thought, she decides to go with Salwaar Kameez,
however she still has to select one from her bewildering pile.
Once again she asks me for a choice,
I tell her very honestly,
wear one which you like,
it is not the dress which is important,
it is what that goes in the dress makes it worthwhile.
She goes over her selections one by one,
all of which get my sincere approval,
finally she says, you are no help at all,
I will pick the golden red kammez with all the little mirrors.
She finds all the matching bangles, bindis,
shoes and matching jewelries,
and starts to get ready for the evening party.
I was bubbling with happiness, as we nearly assembled,
the biggest puzzle in our married life.

It is about four in the afternoon,
I decide to and watch some games on the tube,
there is no big hurry,
the party starts at seven o'clock.

The basketball game was in the fourth quarter,
the two point difference in the playoff games,
in the closing minutes, was keeping me on the edge.
Finally I get my reminder call,
Aye ji sunte ho(Honey) , it is almost seven o'clock.

I go up in hurry,
clean myself up and take a shower,
in five minutes,
I was ready in my favorite party attire.

My wife was still waiting,
with her last question of the night,
She asks with a smile,
How do I look? ,
Do I look pretty? .

I do not know the answer to this question,
I tell her softly,
with your devoted love,
you are the prettiest woman in world.
A simple hug and a gentle kiss,
would make my life worth living,
for centuries to come.

It was getting late,
the part was supposed to start at seven,
if we can make it by eight,
we will be there in time.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, March 23, 2006



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