Walking down the aisle, wanting to stir something inside the person at the other end and discerning this form his smile.
Being given away, waiting for the hand to appear to support me if I fall and my feet sway.
Garlands in hesitating hands, trying to steady them lest anybody misunderstands.
Constant smiling and nodding for the photo-op, who they are I know not, this they find out, I pray not.
Sharing a meal, after days of starving trying to fit into this 80kg ordeal, I think they can see my zeal.
Sitting in front of agni kund, dressed as a fire hazard, telling myself not to twitch a muscle even if the death of me will be this cummerbund.
Now I need to get up to do my circle walk, if only to my sleeping leg I could talk.
I am in the lead, how fast am I supposed to go, fast enough to not result in a runaway bride stampede.
Follow behind, looking graceful even though tricky balancing calculation occupy my mind.
Leaving my home will I bear, over flowing tear duct, hugs galore, will only be 30 minutes away, being alone do I fear.
Look my new home, will I find space, will I get a place, will I get a corner to go into my zone.
Looking demure an coy, greeted by new family, unfamiliar spaces, unfamiliar faces, will I bring them joy.
No no I am not a shy bride.
Nacheez ko Umeed kehte hain,
Aur kisi urdu poet ki mane toh mujh par hi duniya kayam hai.