Her face is black and shiny
like a just burnished ebony!
When Sun rays swept
through the beads of her cold sweat
hundred more Suns did reflect
at once, glowing bright!
Her toil since childhood
bestowed her with the best shape
to make jealous any Miss World.
Her rhythmic movements
while at work or when she does simply walk
can sure invoke poetic zest
to follow her elegant gait
to run eloquent into metrical beats.
Those countless tears and holes in her sari
struggling to cover her raw, rustic beauty
are like windows to her explicit misery!
Her total muliebrity so natural
like a leaf amongst leaves,
a flower amongst the flowers,
flowing like a gushing waterfall!
No wild surmises about her
…sShe is not a glittering cine star
nor a cover girl on a tabloid…
but, a very common Indian maiden
one of several millions seen
anywhere in our dear Nation
…paddy fields, labor yards or fish ponds
…salt pans, spinning mills or gold mines
…as omnipotent as poverty
reigning high in this great country
where womanhood is worshipped
as Goddess Adi Para Shakhty
the holy Generatrix deity,
Governess of the whole universe with piety
…but in blood and flesh her earthly body
seen as sheer sex symbol only
by those eyes of leering lechery!
She is an oppressed grace
of God’s choicest creativity,
she is an ever-drudging human gender
serving vainglory husbands,
and a desecrated living Idol
in a ravaged humane temple
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