My mother came bearing from a land afar
A 9 yards beauty – red, green and many a dull gold bar
A simple polycot, not heavy silk nor beautiful tussar
Nonetheless there is nothing, absolutely nothing on par
To my very first, my very own madisar

Nani’s warm hugs and her fresh pickles in the jar
Stealing from her pantry, to me it was a wonderful bazaar
Seeing her till her last day, she with her nine yards, as costar
Many a memories, came to my mind, mere yaar(friend)
Upon seeing my first, my very own madisar

Hiding behind Dadi, during our sibling wars!
Her soft nine yards, a shield to our innocent spars
Comforting hands, soothing our many scars
Many a memories, came to my mind, mere yaar(friend)
Upon touching my first, my very own madisar

A sense of belonging, a happiness that nothing can mar
An appreciation of a culture as old as the poles polar
Recollecting seeing many a coy bride at the altar
Many a thoughts, come to my mind, mere yaar(friend)
Every time I drape my first, my very own madisar

When my mother came bearing from a land afar
A 9 yards beauty – red, green and many a dull gold bar
Happy tears, streamed down, emotions suppressed so far
For I finally received this gift , more precious to me than any tussar
And I knew that there is nothing, absolutely nothing on par
To my very first, my very own madisar!!!

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