Bride doll in one hand
Groom doll in another
The nine year old
Cherished the gift of her father.
Rejoiced at the thought of
Getting her dolls married
A new game she had found
That kept her engaged.
On the wedding day
She emerged new and fresh
Behind her back
Her family exchanged cash.
Willing to be bought
Willing to be sold
Willing to be used
For mutual benefit.
Displayed as a showpiece
Her garments sparkling
Bejeweled and pink faced
She was now the doll herself.
Her buyer excited at her sight
Though he had many dolls
Back home
To play with.
Still some people covet
Still lust
Still dream
Their filthy dreams.
The hush-hush ceremony
Replete with feasting, ritual n color
Her forehead dyed red
And she? Labeled as someone’s property.
Once purchased
The clothes came off
Swapped
Reshaped redesigned
Reaccessorized in glittery clothes
Dressed differently
A new doll perhaps
Showpieced in front of relatives.
In few months time she was
However withstanding torture
Twisted in body
Used consumed devoured.
Broken arms broken legs
Her dolls laid unclothed
On the floor of her new home
So did she..
Hair in a mess
Black liner smudged
Red lipstick smeared
Her favorite dolls laid on the floor.
The doll was she
The game was her life
She realized late
Bit too late to curse her fate.
Her husband had enough of her
Bored with that old game
New dolls would arrive from the
Market o’course, new n fresh !
And girl children in India
Still play with dolls
So does child brides
Which lie unclothed n twisted on the floor.
This was written by me sometime around July, 2015. As they say, it’s never too late to share,
Picture courtsey: Phone gallery.
Creative Cauldron 