The mere thought of getting married,
Gives me goosebumps.
And a flashback of my whole life,
Occupies my mind.
My heart starts pounding,
And my body becomes numb.
I get a feeling of separation,
From you, from my parents and all other relations.
Only to become Mrs from Miss,
I have to give up on all these.
Still, no one is able to guarantee,
That my face will always be lit up with glee.
In the middle of my life, I will have a whole new lot of people to be called as relatives,
And to learn their likes and dislikes will be my new motive.
If I will still be allowed to write, is what I wonder,
And ‘I doubt’ is what my heart prompts as the answer.
Life would be way different,
And things around would seem extremely uncertain.
I won’t have my mother to help me,
Like she had done for ages.
‘Mom, let me sleep’ won’t be a sentence available in my vocabulary,
Before anyone gets up, I would be seen patrolling in the gallery.
Waiting for him to get up and have his bed-tea,
And then running to get the breakfast ready.
Life will undergo a drastic change,
A change that would never change.
Responsibilities that I never took as a daughter,
Would be forced upon me, as a daughter-in-law.
My complaining mother will have nothing to nag about,
Seeing her daughter as punctual as a clock.
But mothers will always be mothers.
To protest on, she will still find reasons.
My feeling for daughters has always overpowered that for the son’s
But today I wish I was not born as a daughter.
I may be contemplating,
And my life may take me to an alien but a beautiful place.
But thinking is something I like,
And overthinking is what I enjoy.