Look how beautiful the pitch dark is,
When we let our porcelain bodies,
Welcome and shatter each other. We, Geetha and Sachin, met,
On the day of the nuptials, as near-perfect strangers,
In a pledge that was 22 years old, back
When our parents, took us, and plunged us.
And today, we jumped from the cliff end,
To a swirling whirlpool that sunk us in,
In our brittleness. Too shy to even look at each other,
As one by one, the wedding garments fell,
When we saw beyond the arrangements,
The coy smiles, the burning eyes, and the dyslexic bodies
Trying to master a language, that doesn’t
Ask “love or arranged”, just gives you a green card,
Just like Uncle Sam does, as we,
In two flesh suits, leapt into a custom, a rite,
Making love, that story of Californication,
As the collision course paved by fate,
Decanted by the full moon, blessing us,
And fermented by our bodies, till mead,
When we were too drunk to be strangers,
As our lips became serial arsonists.
And love blazed as a raging wildfire,
When only our invisible roots remained.
We were proudly Indian, tanned and brown,
Married to each other, for a life in America,
To embrace greener pastures, a new beginning,
The bride, able to sense the changing landscape,
No longer in Goa, only Georgia, the deep American south,
When like Atlanta, Geetha began the night, as a virgin huntress.
As we became like the canopy of a Banyan tree,
How its gravity-bound roots form, long before the trunk,
The tradition of being child-lovers first,
Before we became one flesh, as dyslexic fools,
Our Indian roots that fell from the sky,
And planted in the heart of Georgia,
What soon, branched to become a shady Banyan tree,
That will never stop growing or branching,
Letting time, sculpt our bonds, those heart chemistries,
As we converged in one flesh, the wedding night,
And as one love, a lifetime after.