After Having Flung The Books, Notes & Papers, She Took Time To Reconcile With To Ask It Again? Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

After having quarrelled with, flung the books,
Pewter water pots, dishes and earthen bowls, pitchers
And broomsticks,
Weeping and crying herself
Having torn the notebooks apart,
She kept silent,
Went on crying
And compromising,
Trying to reconcile with,
To come to terms
And the scholar too looked at his books and notes
And papers in hate and anger
And anguish and repentance
As for why did he marry a foolish and illiterate lady,
That too a village girl,
Teenaged and working
But foolish,
Hoaxing and coaxing his destiny and fate?

The village came she again,
Not as a cyclonic wind,
A whirlwind taking the outlook of a tornado,
But a tornado subsided,
Took time to console and reconcile with,
Wiped out the tears
And smiled she forecibly in anger,
Went to her poor dressing room
To turn up again,
Powdered, creamed,
With the scent,
dressing up and making up herself
To ask,
“Am I not so beautiful
That read you all the times
Without sparing for me,
Am I, am I not really beautiful?
(Holding the hand)
Look, look you
Into the eyes of mine and say to me,
Am I, am I not so? ”