She tiptoed into my room,
Like a monsoon breeze, unaware
She strutted around for a while, fiddling with things.
She stood in front of a mirror, admiring herself, surveying her looks for the last time.
She picked up a bindi and placed it on her bright forehead.
Wrapped a dupatta like a saree
Puffed some talc from the case, all set to go.
And then she told her playmate- That's how Ma dresses up when she goes out with Papa!
From the corner of the curtain I looked at her, lost in thought.
There will be a time when she will dress up and leave.
She will...dress up, and leave.
She will dress up... and leave.