Can You Call It Love?

Text Lines: 96
Four-line verses, rhyming, a-b-c-b rhyme scheme.

"How can you call it love?" they asked
"When the two haven't even met!
It's an arranged marriage, isn't it?
Sort of take-whatever-you-get!"

They were talking of the helper-boy
Who worked at my uncle's house
He went off for a weekend's leave
To see his future spouse.

He came back saying he was engaged
To a young girl from his village
The families agreed, horoscopes matched
And they were exactly the same age.

"How could he get to know her?" they asked.
"He doesn't need to," was our reply,
"His Mom thinks she's suitable. That's
Enough for him to go by."

A week more and they were married
They had a brief honeymoon
Then, leaving her in the village
He was back to work quite soon.

They corresponded by snail-mail
Usually, with a postcard
And then one day, he was troubled
"My Mom's working her too hard."

His new wife was unhappy
In the village, without him
His parents treated her badly
Punishing her on a whim.

"It's like Cinderella," we thought
As he read out what she did write
"I must go and be with her
I must save her from this plight."

He handed in his resignation
He gave up a job in the city
"It's my duty," he said firmly.
"Please, I don't need your pity."

He went back to his village
to be with his young wife
He took a loan to buy a farm
And start again in life.

We heard from him just once
In his childish scrawl
His words were quite grown up
The most mature of them all.

He stood up to his parents
He faced their anger
On behalf of a young girl
Who was almost a stranger.

The beginning of this tale is quite
Common in Indian villages
Women mistreated, even today
As they have been down the ages.

Married on reaching puberty
Or sometimes even earlier
Made to work, malnourished,
Knowing nothing but fear.

"It's their fate," everyone says.
When they cry, nobody hears,
Nobody reaches out a hand,
Nobody wipes their tears.

And then - along comes a young man
Unqualified but very wise
Reading a few words on a postcard
He can at once empathize

He stands against the custom
He shuns his family
He protects his bride
From every bully.

Such tales don't often have
A 'happily ever after'
One only hears of misery
Of sobs, not of laughter.

But thanks to one young man who
Knows the true meaning of 'love'
There is a happy ending
To the tale you've read above.

He lives with his wife in their
Own little cottage
Thanks to him other youngsters
Have got the message.

Can you call it romantic?
Well, it's certainly love
This young man's courage
Is a blessing from above.

There may not have been chocolates
Or flowers, or diamond rings
There may not have been moonlit walks
Down lanes where nightingales sing.

There may not have been whispers
Or tender little cuddles
There may not have been rainbows
And jumping in the puddles.

What there is, is love
At its most pure
A deep love, a strong love
A love that does endure.