She took up the brush in her tender hands
Very first time as her teacher cajoled
Pallete in hand the colours and the canvas
she let her mind wander to imagine for the very first time
Think beyond the world she has never before seen
Only in her brothers books and her half disturbed dreams
In her cocoon of narrow alleys amd turrets
Beyond the colourful black, life extending beyond the greens
Images of sunlight filtering onto her crowded home
Ailing old and the ever fearing women in the household
Learning whatever less forbidden she could
From the little journeys her small life ever took
She thought of the trivial moving to the surreal
Squares of Shahabad tiles and rounds of the central well
Shining Trinklets on the road that she once found
Her mother's anguish, pain and lullaby her sounds
When others started with mountains, fairies and ponds
Realise did she that world exists beyond
The Crevices and the dark kitchen smoke
More freedom for the colours and her empty songs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem