women alone


She’s alone
She manages her own life
Put to rest other things.
Big or small, married or single,
moneyed or poor. Only that one thing,
she’s alone.

Her door is open.
Inside there’s a hum. Questions buzz.
Who’s there, what’s going on there,
What, what is the scene there?
All idle souls are curious.

Her door is shut.
Arrows of questions hammer her door.
The idle is restless, bound in gossip,
minds becoming dark, darker.

She is now dressed up gaudily,
goes out. Idle minds ease for a moment.
But after her many questions…
where is she going, for whom?
Why is she going?
Curious, all curious.

Her success is all her own–
promotion, salary hike, clearing examinations.
The curious questions would need to blush in shame.
The vicious, disappointed questions.

How did she make it? Who did her a favor?
What did she give in return?
Her room in lock,
the questions left with a bitter taste.

Questions, questions, more questions,
Her life of questions.
The questions thrown at her by her mother, sisters.
Now her friends, neighbors today,
there tomorrow.

*Indira sant


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