Devadasi Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Devadasi, tired of dancing in the temple complex
All through your life,
Pursued by an oracle, a soothsay
As seen by the presiding priest
Superstitiously, blindly,
Not in the clear light of day,
Persuaded by the astrologers,
Seconded by horoscope-makers and palmists,
Daydreams seen again,
Featuring again in the nightdreams,
You come out, come out
Of the ghetto of the middlemen,
The florists, guards and abnormals,
As the temple not the place of yours
And you too cannot keep company of
The duplicate fellows
And they too not the right men
To be befriended
And to be confided in?

Devadasi, who brought you here,
What were the situations compelling upon,
How the times,
The situations implied upon,
I just think, think about them,
The temple priests,
The astrologers and the palmists
Who prophesized,
Who took the promise from your parents
Holding the hands of
Before God
And making them swear in the name of god,
Who the horoscope-makers
Who made the horoscope to foretell
The goodluck not,
Who the palmists
Who saw the palm to say
And how the attendants,
The florists, door-keepers, guards
And nightlong loitering priests,
What religion and piety to them,
What chastity and virtue to be spoken of
And how long can a young woman dance
In the temple courtyard,
Keeping the company of mute gods and goddesses
As a yogan, a sadhvi,
O, how long,
Oh, where have we come to sinfully!