A Woman Of The Soil Poem by DR KUSUMITA MUKHERJEE

Someone's clawing me.
A rat?
A cat?
A dog?
A man?

No it's just a beggar woman.
Both her hair and sari are grey
Her bare feet are of the same colour as the ground she is standing on.
A true woman of the soil.

Her wrinkles outnumber the scraggly hair on her head.
Most of her teeth are missing
Yet she smiles
She smiles to please whomsoever she can.

It is a thundering monsoon day.
I wonder why she is still outside?
Has she been a mother to none?
A wife?
A sister?
A daughter?

Age has robbed her of opportunities.
Her body has withered
It is of no use to her now
More of a burden with an ache here and there.
Most of all she is weary of her hunger.
She asks- - when all has gone why this remains?
It could have receded too.

I cannot answer her.
I feel sorry for women like her.
Someday perhaps I will do something for women like them.
May be a few years later;
May be never.
I give her a rupee and part.