Sunday, July 5, 2009

Colours - Orange

[Every woman has a story. Every story has a colour. This is just one of them.
This is a work of fiction. The characters and situations are purely imaginary, and any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental and unintended.]


She watched the patterns take shape on her palm. “The darker the colour, the more love your mother-in-law will give you”, the elder ladies prophesied.

Henna blessed by the mother of the man she was marrying. The lady who hated her for stealing her only son.

Henna symbolising acceptance, unconditional love. Did no one realise it was a stamp of ownership, not a mark of assimilation? “Today, the patterns on your hand are ours”, the henna screamed. “Tomorrow your identity will be submerged too.”

Why did marriage have to involve families? Why couldn’t she just marry the man she loved?


_____
Drabble(n) -
an extremely short work of fiction exactly one hundred words in length.

2 comments:

dipali said...

Loving your blog since I accidentally bumped into it at Gouri's comment space:)

Carnimire said...

Thanks, Dipali.

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