Seeds, Beads And Jaggery

Bending o'er the pink stones, hammering them to their bones

Labouring mother, in sudden labour groans;

All of five summers borne, 

The pale, sick daughter wildly ran home.

Wailing loudly for help and attention to come fore

Knowing not how much and were from

She knew she had her share of duty fair.

Six arduous hours bore a brother to her.

Joy and happiness gleamed in her eyes.

Neighbours came, jaggery they gave.

She got one, wrapped her piece, 

Kept below the brick in the niche.

She kissed him at morn, noon and night.

I get to hold you in my arms 

The day of Purnima, bright.

Thrice a day she chuckled this line.

She brought water, she did little chores,

She was next to her mother jumping at

Every small whim and askance she had.

She was the mother of the house now.

She rested not she waited long

For everyone and all time.

Father and aunt too busy and occupied now,

Till time took over her tiny self.

Argue, took over her with all its might 

Barfing and heaving, unable to move, 

With great efforts, she turned around

Slowly searching under the coarse mat

Clutched in her frail palms tiny red thread 

With seeds and beads tied sound.

Purnima morning the lifeless hands,

A rakhi and jaggery they found.