Look at those eyes
so bright and alert.
Even in pictures,
her intelligence was featured.
Not that it mattered,
not as if she'd need a brain.
Pots and pans would suffice
to keep her entertained.

The girl of barely 18
knew she must run away
as her photos had been
delivered just yesterday.
Packing some food into
a thin cloth sack, she
waited for darkness
before she could flee.

Such lovely, fair skin
with light Caucasian eyes.
Just think of the children
she would provide!
But even the best cattle
isn't without nicks.
Her family's as poor
as the lowly Dalits.

Then again,
this is great!
No way can her
parents refuse an
Oxford law graduate.
He'll make her his bride and
she'll love her new life,
tomorrow he shall meet her
for the very first time.

Beaten and bruised, she
lay on the ground, Mama had
heard footsteps as she
was sprinting out.
Locked up alone, tears
stained the crimson straw
At least Bhaiya can now eat
with the dowry she'll draw.

On their wedding day,
not once did she frown,
her unusually dimmer eyes
looked a sultry light brown.
Her husband was pleased
with her slender frame,
he couldn't wait to live happily
with a wife who
knew not his name.
———————————————————
Dalits: 'Untouchables'/ The lowest rank in the Indian caste system/ Beggars

Mama: Mom/Mother

Bhaiya: Older brother
———————————————————
Author's Note: My parents were in an arranged marriage, but theirs was much more happy and peaceful than this poem depicts it to be. Not all arranged marriages are bad or forced, but something needs to be done about those that are.