Woman of India

                            Woman of India

                    Her forehead adorned with vermillion
                        There are like her just a million,
                    Tradition is still part of the baggage
                        She still quotes many a adage.

                    She does not heed her running years
                          So much to do, no time for tears.
               Success nor failure does her blight,
                          Her spirit rises  up with might.
                             
               Smilingly, she nurtures her fold,
                          Yielding to wishes- told , untold,
                 Silent sacrifices of too many dreams.
                            Praying, stifling, silent screams.

                      Resolutely, forward she does tread,
                          Her heart stands her in good stead:
                 Her goal, she can clearly discern,
                            Her place in history she will earn.

                 In her sixties, forties or in her teens;
                            Clad in Saris, Suits or Jeans,
                 Every male bastion before her falls,
                            She strides boldly to her call!

                          From the dust repeatedly rising
                            A phoenix : its plumes shining;
                 ‘Ashes to Ashes and dust to dust’,
                            She surely is no object of lust!

                   She is a force - most formidable;
                              Of what is she not capable?
                          When she decides to take her vow
                              All heaven to her will bow!