A protest poem by Tripti. She tells us about the irony in the land which worships the female form, Goddess Durga, yet doesn’t want to bear girls or treat them with respect! (From her book on poems, The Dewdrops… A journey begins).
The ‘kanchkas’ rushed in with festive ardor,
Their soul like their clothes
Sparkled in the festive color.
The sight of food
Spread tempting odor,
The fears forgotten,
Gaiety spread festive candor.
The pride of being a girl
for once celebrated their desire,
Oh, the joy of being cared
Hung thick in the jubilant air!
Today the ‘kanchkas’ were on a run,
Indulged more than the bewildered son,
The ‘kanyas’ were to be worshipped,
The ‘kanyas’ were to bless;
Today they were Durga,
The fiery goddess!
Dressed in their finery best,
The shrieking kanchkas ruled the rest!
Leaving behind the sulking brothers
And for once the proud mothers,
The revered girls ran and fought,
Today they were so selfishly sought.
But tomorrow will be another day,
It will be back to the usual way
For Durga would have gone home,
Unruffled unaware, far away…
Behind the curtains
A woman pregnant, silently rues!
Hoping Durga watches her woes,
As she tirelessly works for the feast.
If she has a girl!
She knows how they will treat.
To Durga, she will fast and pray,
The kanchkas should bless her today
And let a son come her way!
Her father helpless, lived in penury,
So she couldn’t bring in much dowry.
The jibes were getting worse every day,
Fervently she hoped,
The goddess should not turn her away!
Amidst the festive splendor,
Throbs the under running bias.
Behind the bubbly kanchkas,
Breathes their trauma and their trials.
The ‘mahisasurs’ still roam around free,
Oh, the mighty Durga!
Why can’t you feel?
Why can’t you see?
The irony in the land of kanchkas!
Pic from Net.