Anuradha's page

Women

She woke up thinking of her eight birthday,

Her mom bought her red bangles and

fresh jasmine flowers;

The sun had been pleasant and so

the water at the stream.

The sun was still pleasant but

now beckoned of work;

Of bricks to be laid and gallons to be filled

Gita yearned for the mornings with her mother,

Green fields and quite waters

Her son cried in his sleep;

She woke up in the dark

She changed his nappy

Wondered if he was happy

Cause wet it had been in her hut

Where huddled together,

Meeta with mother and brother

While on her rounds, selling tampons

and large size panties,

Little did she wander; to be back by sun down

For Deeru needed his scrub and a bowl of grub

She burned her hand, third time on a Tuesday

For she fried phulkas, one to a hundred

And butter did she melt,

On a hot summer’s day;

For her mother spend time for crime

Sheeraj fried phulkas in the day

and read History till late

Cause she hoped to get a job

and rise above the daily chore

Dark kohl and a strong scent;

She lingered in her broken high heel

Streets lit with lamps yet too dark for the eye

Long hours did she work,

with the crooked men

and clever miscreant agents

On days of spare, she tried to forget

Days of despair and gloom

Of school dropouts and swindling thugs  

For she had to work to fix the roof

And to send them to school

For Tyra, Meera, Hema and Sheena

Knew not of a father but of a sister

Who knew life could be darker

than down in an alley