An Average Indian Woman Poem by NEHA RAUTELA

He spills on her the oil of vitriol,
For being amiable and kind
Still flirts with the buxom beauties
On as many occasions as he can find!

He flaunts his kinky shirt, half naked on the road
While her honour lies passively robed, from head to toe!

Oh! the strings to hold the puppets for pleasure,
Yes, they are too old …
Why only the fairer blood,
Sacrificed at the altar of social role?

Even the gods were not spared, from the irony of accusation
She had to pass the fire-test,
To vanquish the venomous viper of doubt
Yes, she was fed to the hungry flames
Ethereal embodiment of loyal devotion,
A woman of such clout!

Then what to say of an average woman?
Alas! My Goddess,
Your daughter, this subdued woman …
This average Indian woman is expected to keep quite!