Disclaimer: this poem is not meant to trigger any religious disagreements or arguments. Please consider this just as any other poem.
Her:
My mouth fell open under my niqab
when he walked down the street
in a white kurta, with the sleeves folded to his elbow.
His pure, black sapphire eyes,
his honest and kind smile, showing all his teeth,
his little dimple on the left side of his cheek,
and his walk.
He looked...beautiful
as I watched him from behind the jaali, at the masjid.
And in that moment, he became my mannat.
Him:
As I walked down the street, passing by the mosque,
I found her with her eyes shut tight
as she tied the colourful thread to the jaali
and silently wished for something,
or someone? wholeheartedly.
She slowly opened her large, mesmerizing, amber eyes
as she adjusted to the daylight, and caught mine.
Her eyes widened in astonishment.
I could only see her gentle eyes
and for some reason, I sought comfort in them,
a safe place to let myself into.
Now I knew what to wish for once I reached the mandir.