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THE WEDDING DRESS The orange silk cascades like water; the threads and sequins glow like fire. The contradictions were fitting. The fabric carries the scent of spice and a balmy dress shop. But the strands quivered with more than glitter. The vibration of voices. Had the seamstress sewn more than beads. Did she know a nervous bride would wear this? Had she chosen the fiery cloth and Placed it against her own brown skin Saying, "Yes, this will do"? Thin hands weaving through chiffon flames. Paisleys born in sparks of gold! Yes, she knew what a wedding dress needed -A modest collar to show off a black and gold mangal sutra and a lean throat... A bodice luring admirers to the intricate designs and sensuous curves... A duppatta to veil eyes lined with kajol, flashing and flirting beneath... Delicate ribbons on the waist, tied by mehndi etched hands and loosened by anothers. She also knew what a wife needed and She lined the sleeves carefully, |
. | Ashini Desai calls herself an Indian-American, not to be politically correct but to acknowledge the two cultures that have shaped her. She graduated from Rutgers University with an English degree, worked in the nonprofit arena for several years and is now a computer consultant. She has published a short story and poem in "Shakti Kee Awaaz", a 1997 anthology of writings by South Asian women. She has also published poems and book reviews on the web.
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