Tale Of Tradition

Forehead coated with red vermilion,
with spreading incense of intense loyalty,
long hair parted in equal coconut oil,
body smeared with sacred halves,
greased with century old ash,
bunch of flower braids entangled in braid,
diffusing into petals of love,
circular rings piercing nose and ear,
lighting up skin lobes with glittering gold,
long threads with sandalwood beads,
tied to beautifully crafted necks,
long fingers covered with red nail paint,
steel bangles dangling from wrists,
black mascara adorning shielding eyes,
sprawled tattoos depicting religion,
engraved on large lined palms,
lips portraying tinge of natural fleshy pink,
broad shoulder bones toughened with household chores,
with embroidered silk covering every inch of flesh,
preparing appetizing delicacies in enclosed kitchens,
a saga of unending sacrifice,
and an excellent chanter of the vedic rhyme,
an autobiography of self discipline,
giving birth to offspring’s like me,
and a host of eminent personalities,
is the traditional Indian woman.

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