you're trying to figure out
whether she's really
wearing Gucci,
or if it's a fake bag.

I'm trying to figure out
whether that look
in her eyes is grief
or another sadness
that I have not yet
learned to understand.

you're judging her
because her teeth
aren't perfectly straight.

I'm judging her
based off of the words
that come out from
behind those teeth.

you're hating on her
because she doesn't
wear her makeup like
the rest of these girls do.

I'm loving her because
she has the courage
to stand out, and the
self-respect to not care
if you don't like it.


you're studying her looks,
but I'm focused on her soul.

that's what makes us different.

Finally,
She sits at the window side,
Tried to breathe a little peace-
Keeping aside all the marginal desires
With a mortgage on time,
With a long-distance train
Like running without a whistle,
Will suddenly stop moving,
Then take a little rest in that open courtyard-
From where the mass of the bamboo scaffolding of the fence
The open sky can be seen.

Blue sky!
She hasn't had time to look that way for a long time.
From dawn to dusk, till the evening light,
Collecting firewood,
Pushing the kitchen,
Cleans rust from old windows,
Gather the reed branches,
Washes the broth stains from husband's vest,
Putting the torn button of the elder boy's shirt,
Sew the sleeve of the little girl's dress ....

Tried to take a little leisure though;
Where did a stormy crow come from?
Sat down on the courtyard and started yelling-
"I want a little food for my hungry stomach!"

(On the eve of the International Mother’s Day:
Dedicated to the marginalized neglected mothers of rural Bengal)

Do not fear her for her scars
or hate her
for how many times she has cried -

Love her
for she is broken,
respect her
for she has lived -
know that she is a mountain
that won't crumble
with tomorrow in mind