[Poem] Think

Loudspeakers blare,
as the starched-cottons declare
“This is the year of the Girl Child”
and reality chuckles, sitting aside.

Wine-sipping socialites discuss our future,
adorned in jewels and hep couture
with clothes barely to cover our chest
we toil in the fields, with no rest

Our ears turn deaf to some words, oft-heard
Dowry, rape, purdaah seem quite weird
Many I know have not even seen light
Don’t ask me what’s wrong, what’s right

It only needs a scalpel to snuff out a life
Don’t shut your eyes to this practice rife
All I can do is predict mankind’s doom
as I slowly die in my mother’s womb

Vijay © 1st December, 2005