The day of gold

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Everything is a scintillating gold
Jasmines and beads shroud my eyes
But my taut lips stifle my dimples

There’s no tinkle on Mother’s wrists
She smiles, placid in soft pastel. Not
Everything is a scintillating gold

Banquet tables are laid heavy
Locked tunes escape the shehnais
Jasmines and beads shroud my eyes

Without your hand on my head, Father
I say ‘Qubool Hai,’ when asked thrice

But my taut lips stifle my dimples

** Translations
Qubool hai – I accept
Shehnai -a wind musical instrument
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