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A Child Widowed at Eight

As I crossed
The threshold
Of my new home,
As a bride

My eyes fell
On a woman draped
In white…
Standing against
The sunlight,
Highlighting
Deep furrows
On her brow…

I felt embarrassed,
And overdressed.
Later asked my spouse,
'Who is that woman,
Why didn’t she take
Part in the celebrations? '

'She is my aunt,
She is widowed,
Was a child, merely eight
When she lost her mate,
Ever since she has been
Ostracised,
Portent of bad omen...

But she is the only woman
I have known as a mother,
She nurtured
And told us stories
We grew up on laughter…'

Condemned
To life sentence…
Did anyone ask
How it felt
Yes, at eight…
Did she feel bereft?
Did she understand
Why her head had been shaved,
Colourful bangles pulled out of her hand,
Light, colours, laughter banned?

I could see,
The child
In her
Had survived,
When she played
With my first born
And sang lullabys, put her to sleep
When she cried…

She had moved on…
What was gone was gone
She had not even known…
At times, she dyed
Her Sari palest of blue
Her favourite hue…

Everyone mocked,
Pretended to be shocked…
And asked have you forgotten?
No she has not, I said,
'Yes, she is human-
Now a woman.

Her heart still beats,
She has needs.
She still breathes…
Let her live,
As she too feels…

Why is she being punished?
And expected to extinguish
The spark divine?
She not commit
any crime.

She doesn’t deserve cruelty,
Please treat her with sensitivity
And some generosity.
She has not known love, motherhood.
She lost her childhood…'

I was peeved…
This exploitation and
And many questions
Nagged me for weeks.

One day, my mate
Said, come Ma pack.
I am sorry,
I delayed
Taking you away.
Tears streaming down her cheeks
She nodded, 'I am glad,
You finally asked.'
She looked at me
As if for assent…
'Give us a chance
To let you be…'

poem by Mamta Agarwal
Added by Poetry Lover
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