Naayo (Poem)

English Script

Naayo (Women)

Every  day,

sickle in hand,

she harvests her world.

Her stable and her family.

Nourishing them with what she brings.

Her fingers bruise

Blades of grass stain red.

The henna, helps hide her cuts;

She rolls the dough and roasts the bread.

The heat of the flames, the burning chilly,

Seeps through the cuts on her fingers.

She is happy, seeing her children’s rosy lips,

The flavor of her food lights up their faces.

But the husband cares not for her pain,

Crushing her hennaed resolve with his desires.

But as always, this morning too;

The henna, glitters in its freshness and color,

Rests on these hands.

Her sighs; her feminine grace

Are dubbed

Like the Rajnigandha(tuberose flower)which blooms at night

Enveloping the yard in its magical trail.

And one day

After dusk sets in

Like an old pot

Thrown in a decaying corner,she sits.

Her efforts forgotten

Her everyday work rendered ordinary

Unable to prove their worth

In the courts of this world.

Withered, she’s consumed,

like the clouds in the sky.

But such an animal is man:

Whose greed knows no bound?

She becomes like a tap left open,

With the hope of squeezing one last drop.

Each day she wakes to light the clay oven

Each night the oven is doused, by her

As she hopes her wound would heal

before the henna fades.

Every  day,

sickle in hand,

she harvests her world.

Her stable and her family.

By Saheb Ram Tudu

Note: Underlined poetry is not used in Film.