Garlands on the door that were hanging,
The din of musical instruments banging,
Announced a grand function in the house,
That was to bring in a beautiful new spouse,
To none other than the man, with whom I wed,
And spent many blissful nights on his bed.
Now I stand alone outside the door locked,
With my head hung low for being mocked.
‘What use to me is a woman so infertile?’
Reckless and ruthless, he turned but not servile.
“Lord! Will locked doors open on us ever,
And teach men, ties are not made to sever?”