She concentrates her gaze on her fingers,
There is no life left in them she figures.
The stark paleness revolts her,
The superficial lines are merely a blur.
She shuts her eyes tightly for a few moments,
The girl is tired of the inevitability.
Tears fall, as the eyelids embrace,
She is Tired, because very soon new tears will surface.
She doubts if they see all this,
They look humans, no trait neither limb they miss.
At their thought, she shudders.
What humanity has ever taught them, she wonders.
What they do to her, they must not repent.
What is she, if not a few rupees well spent?
As they rip her body and soul apart,
Do they sense a life in her, some emotions and a heart?
She remembers the promise of her father,
She prays that he should come before her hopes falter.
He had said, soon there will be no power he’ll lack,
He had sworn he’ll buy her back.
She spots a shadow at the door
Will she have to die some more?
Frantically, she gets up off the floor
She searches madly for it, but what does she explore?
He opens the door with sheer excitement
Million thoughts rush to his mind like a flood
His breath leaves him, his eyes are deceived
A dagger pierced to her heart, there lays his daughter in a pool of blood.
In the Khakranagla
They are an impoverished lot. They are not very educated either. They don’t see anything wrong in what they do. It is a way of life for them. They say their women have accepted it as their fate.
I somehow don’t agree.
The agitation came out in form of this poem.
It is about a hypothetical girl who couldn’t fight it, but ultimately, refused to accept it as ‘her fate’.