I cried when I was detached
From my umbilical string
I rued my un-rooting and
Unravelling to the world
Un-tethered I went,arm to arm
Sigh to sigh; “You’re our daughter”
Whispered a soothing hand
And I wept away my anonymity
Enjoying the given identity
I grew and grew and then outgrew
The yearning for the sacred string
I wore and played what
Most daughters do, I jumped and
Frolicked over puddles and pools
I climbed up the gates and twirled the stool
SISTER! You mustn’t.
Behove of your tribe!
Oh brother! Oh bother!
Why such rules are applied?
The question moved from brother
To father and then to my mother
Tenderly, she so replied
‘Do not fret, you image of my own, for the
Seeds of rich promises were sown
When I conceived you in my mind itself
Just like me and your granny
You’ll take charge of the grain and the penny
You’ll do well in times to come
Just do not ask why it’s done, what’s done’
Gazing at me she spoke not to me
‘Ours is a book of two pages, my dear.
To add some more
Will need patience of the sages’
In silence I heard what she said and said not
Conjoining our hearts of its own accord
Stealthily….a thought stormed in and
My mind was filled up with pages and pages.