Who said that you are
aged?
Why should you fear
being caged?
You may be not in prime
age
Nor on the verge of
bearing age.
The mid-day sun is not
yet set.
The browsing cow is
still to retreat.
The gooseberry ripens
not in haste.
Why should you be
steadfast?
With deft hands as you
work,
With nimble feet as you
dart,
And in soft voice as you
talk,
Often with laugh, woven
with sparks
Of white teeth, in
rhythmic pitch,
You look younger,
belying your age.
Friendly nature and
sportive posture
Are your treasure, that
shade your age.
Past teenage, no more a
tendril.
Past twenties, no more a
sapling.
A growing tree is as
suppler
To a tusker, if not to
rabbits or goats.
Five and thirty, still
you a beauty,
With sturdy frame and
firm cheeks,
Hued with bravado, to
the men of choice,
Which you don’t know
that you know.
No cosmetics, still
striking,
No glamour, yet
pleasing,
No vanity, nevertheless
modern,
No pomposity, but with
simplicity,
You put me blind to your
age.
Woman of standing that
you are,
A woman outstanding that
you are,
It alone is enough to
eclipse your age.
‘What can a man do for
me,
Other than giving me a
kid?
What, if he turns out to
be bad?’
Obsessed and haunted with, you are.
If not to conceive,
why’d a flower
Open its lips and exert
its nectar?
What for must you stray
out?
What, if you lament,
when too late?
To a frog heaven is the
well
Till it comes out of the
well.
Mum is dear only till
man takes over.
After mum, if nor him,
who’s there?
To a tree, ripe fruits
never cling.
As a woman you can’t
play a doll
That you had failed to,
as a girl.
Sans motherhood, what is
womanhood?
Dear, before sunset, step in.
Here, our son is waiting.
1.8.97 Agart
