Misfortune's Fangs Poem by UMESH KUMAR SINGH

A female beggar in tatters lies,
The infant in her lap bitterly cries.
She tries to make the child cool,
But in vain result all her tool.

II

May be babe with a body hot seriously ill,
May be it badly needs medical drill.
Alas! she does not have the wherewithal to get it cured,
And have the misfortune's fangs temporarily demured.

III

The snarl of the crowd around usually goes,
There is none to relieve her of her throes.
A scene her mind frequently dogs,
Attacks by a pack of wolves and dogs.

IV

She darts further back into recesses of the past,
Witnesses how stars put her into a happy cast.
Her father smoothly pulled the family's car,
And successfully managed the worldly war.

V

But heavens for her had decreed a saga of sorrow,
The events of her life changed for a painful morrow.
Her healthy mother mercilessly Death goobles,
An avalanche of miseries falls to engineer troubles.

VI

Her father 'care' of a new mother fast provides,
That may fill her life's void with long strides.
Alas! her father's expectations were misplaced,
The new mother schemed to have her fast displaced.

VII

Pangs of daily tortures suffered at home made her decide,
To leave the hell before her father's return to home coincide.
Fled to a nearby town hoping to rid herself of a loathsome life,
Driven by a bitch's threatening moves- moves of own father's wife.


VIII

To a stranger good Samaritan ‘s bait she falls,
And in her naivette decides to answer to his calls.
To a rich fat lady living in a big house her he took,
Whom a magnanimous woman she mistook.

IX

Soon her Himalyan blunder she realised,
Her virgin grove without her consent vandalised.
To her horror found the fields suddenly ploughed,
A seed without paternity's tag in her stood sowed.

X

Misfortune she again decided to dodge,
And fled for life from her lodge.
On the pavement once she to this world a baby brings,
A baby that cannot trace to paternal links.

XI

Soon the baby infection acquires,
And cries hoarse much care it requires.
'Go to hell'- the sweeper on the platform orders,
With a jolt bringing her close to life's corners crude.