Sindoor

Opaque red glows above
her two brows, nestles
in the parting of her hair.

Not the expected dot,
but the vermilion thread
drawing into eternity;

a stretch similar
to the vermilion tied
on her wrist. The vein

pulses the same
expectation to spend
her lifetime with two

households, both hands,
one line to define
her marriage

and maternity. This
lifeline stained my
grandmother’s scalp

forty years before; the same
jupiter shades my mother’s future—.

     by Upma Kapoor