Under The Gulmohar Tree Think I Of My Dreamgirl As How To Bring Her Home As My Bride Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Under the gulmohar tree
With the blossoms
Hanging by
Even in Chaitra and Baisakh
Pause I
On seeing the blossoms
And dream I of
Bringing my dreamgirl
As my bride
In sixteen shringaras

When the loo blows it
At noonday
Ruffling it all,
But the clusters
Of gulmohar blossoms,
Fiery and flame-like
Hanging by
And rustling,
Flowery and ornate
And florid
And beautiful enough

I pause by and think
Of bringing her home,
My dreamgirl,
The queen of my heart
Dressed in a red Benarasi silk sari
Embroidered, satin-brocaded,
In the bracelet, anklet,
Ear-ring, finger-ring,
Necklace, nose-ring,
Vermillion in the parting line
Of her hair,
The hands myrtled
With prints,
The toe sides
Coloured with
Red water colour
And the bindi spot
On the forehead.

With collyrium in her eyes,
Bangles on the wrists,
Rajanigandha blooms
Stuck into the braid
Of the hair,
Will she come,
Come to my home,
My queen of heart,
Spraying perfume over,
My love
Whom I have given my heart,
The girl of my dreams,
Dream I
Standing under
The gulmohar blossoms
Marking them.