In the darkened room
a woman
cannot find her reflection in the mirror
waiting as usual
at the edge of sleep
In her hands she holds
the oil lamp
whose drunken yellow flames
know where her lonely body hides
A countryside rural space Indian woman without name or identity living in a nondescript Indian village where the people go half-clothed, half-fed living below the poverty line, without light, books or modern resources, living an agricultural life is the chief attraction of the story here. Just after the when it is dark the whole village lapses into a slumber for want of resources and availability of things. Those who have not lived in villages will not come to feel it how life is hard therein.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An Indian village woman living a life without any personality and identity of her own is the thing of deliberation. How the Indian women have lived in the nondescript villages, passed their days in utter neglect, poverty, hunger, underdevelopment, scarcity of food and resources? But apart from a body, she is also a soul and a spirit. she has also a soul, a spirit of own which but we do not know it.