I
Pushing forty
By the traditional standards
On the shelf is the Ms.
Very conscious of this
Styles, perms her hair
Polishes, re-polishes her wares
Ever ready to snare –
Jumps from one to the other
Proclaiming her liberation
Runs through the masculine ration,
A hollowness behind her elation.
Her deliberate put downs
Of the husbands’ slaves
Her readily agreeing
Motherhood is an arduous task
Grapes-are-sour feeling mask.
II
The family’s unpaid drudge
Looks longingly at the dashing Ms.
Unfettered by him and kids
Enjoying her pay-packet –
While hers just saves the lot
From the financial straitjacket.
Misused, disused, abused
Neither the kids, nor he
Have time for her –
“Thanks Mom”
“You’re a dear”
– Interspersed with tears
She berates herself.
Her life is shelved
– was shelved long ago.
Sweet grapes turned sour
Fuming, she turns
To household chores.
—
Poetry lover? Check out Gitanjali: A Collection of Indian Poems by the Nobel Laureate
