Sonnet: The Downtrodden Women
Just skeletal figures, white-saree clad!
Wind-carried, frail beings that hardly walk;
They hurry ’cause ’tis late with weather bad;
Their mouths are stiff: ’tis better they don’t talk!
If not for this job, they will surely starve!
Tho’ ill-paid still, they smile and laugh and cry;
Half-literate, a good niche, they can’t carve;
Into their personal lives, people do pry.
Such is the lot of poor women these days!
From lower middle-class who cannot fend;
The corrupt society won’t mend its ways;
But God will ultimately them defend.
How can the world allow such unfairness,
When God is truth and dispels all darkness?