The Bangle-Sellers Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

When I was a boy, I used to hear them,
Hear them calling,
Churi, churi
And passing through the lanes of the houses
With the words, churi, churi
For mothers and sisters,
The Muslim sellers in lungi and kurta
And sporting the beards,
Churi, churi, kanch ki churi,
Bangle, bangle, glass-bangles
And the women in the villages and townships
Calling, churi-churi, O Churiwallah,
Come, come here,
They calling with the hands raisd
And they coming back,
Coming back with the words,
Churiwallah, churi-churi, kanch ki churi,
The small hawkers, peddlers,
The bangle, bangle-sellers of India
Sitting with the cloth bundles
To make them wear the coloured bangles.