Her round eyes sparkle,
Framed by the glistening gold
Weighing down on her forehead

Her heart flutters away,
As her mind tries
To fully absorb
Her colourful surroundings

She sits quietly,
Listening to an unknown voice
Recite soothing words of prayer:
blessings for a happy marriage,
She's not privileged to have

Rich vermilion silk
Drapes her slender frame,
Not yet reached its full beauty;
Her hand moves
With a tinkling of bangles,
To pull the folds closer
And freezes as she ponders
Of what would happen
Later,
During the night.

She should be happy,
Shouldn't she?
She can see her parents,
Her closest kin,
Her circle of trust,
They're smiling
And she should too.

After all,
This is what girls are born for;
This is what God made girls for;
This is a girl's purpose;
She should be happy.
Her grandma was wise,
And she believed her.

She utters a quick prayer to God
And leaves the holy place,
Her soft, slender fingers swallowed
By a large, rough hand.
With each step
She wonders,
when she should ask for his name.