Hopscotch & Wedding

In the courtyard of a bustling wedding,
a shoe or two skip across the chalked squares,
bouncing on the ground, then landing with grace.

After a round of giggling, children slip,
running from the crowd to quickly gather
where the colourful hopscotch path awaits.

Laughter rings out as they leap one by one,
a few barefoot, lehengas and kurtas
swirling with each jump. And if the rock rolls

out of line, they crouch together to fix
the game with careful hands, to learn from their
mistakes, their cadence as light as balloons.

When a child spins flawlessly at the end
of the grid, ready to hop back, they clap,
as though they’ve caught the bride’s bouquet itself.

The game continues until lanterns glow,
flickering above like warm stars, casting
a playful light on their soft footsteps. And

during the break, they sit on the steps and
talk of games played beneath far-off skies, as
cheerful wedding songs ride on the shy breeze.

No rush, no boredom, no despair, they share
their treats—a sweet here, a sip of juice there,
passed around like it’s their first feast ever.

Nearby, an old man watches from the shade,
reflecting on the joy that fills his heart—
how tender days, he thinks, just drift away.

With the bride and groom soon gone in their car,
the parents call the children back. Hands held
tight, they rise through the dusk, promising to

hop again when the morning sun returns,
unsuspicious that the pitter-patter
of the night’s rain will erase their chalked squares—
no doubt, they’ll redraw them, brighter, bolder.