a widow so young
distressed, with lifes play
moans.....
it is not her fault,
nor desire
it is not the future,
she wanted to have.
became a widow of
circumstances
and for life.
her crime, perhaps,
losing her husband to time,
not her own, but with gods will.
she, lived her life
with love and respect,
till the vermillion
of her forehead
was not smeared,
and her bangles,
the sign of marriage,
were not taken off..
it hurts me,
when i see her,
not participate,
in happy rituals, and i think
is it that we make her
a lesser human being,
because she is alone?
i ask my self,
when will we learn.
social disparity,
social ostracisation,
has been going on
for ages now.
those who raised their heads,
like raja ram mohan roy,
and others have gone,
succeeded to an extent,
the malady, still remains.
some times, it feels
the fate of women is jinxed,
yet the talks of emancipation
remains a faraway dream.
it is also the right of of women
not to be restrained,
from doing, the normal things in life,
and lead a happy life they deserve
to have.
till today,
child widows are still there,
suffering the life of hell,
on earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice one, ritty! Even after all the advancement and development, this problem does persist. Somewhere, we only, are to be blamed, yes? ? ?