The bus came to a halt and the door swung open,
I stepped out, a gush of hot air announcing the noon.
The sun stood glaring from the sky,
The green banyan tree, below, willowing high.
I saw her, my little girl with pigtails bobbing up and down,
She clapped her hands, jumping in her gown.
A pair of white eyes and a streak of pearly white teeth,
Echoing her welcome to me, with happy feet!
A wave of trepidation swept across my forehead,
The long winding roads leading me ahead.
I rushed to the river banks as she clambered out,
Her waist swaying, her dark lips in a pout,
She smiled, her eyes eclipsed in her black brows,
Shyness masking her face as she glows.
I pass the familiar shops in the village,
The women and men changed with age.
A dash of colorful sarees, gleaming on their brown skin,
Milk white dotis screaming clean on my brownish kin.
They are my people, innocent and true,
Greeting me as I enter new.
Away from the world of blondes,
Where I went to seek some pounds.
I am back to my roots, to breathe some relief,
To steal my bride, like a thief.
She stands out, a beauty on her own,
Piggy tails and gowns long gone,
A slender figure of grace, My wife,
A beauty for my eye.
How beautiful is our dark skin,
The identity of our kin.