Her face is black and shiny br Like a just burnished ebony br When Sun rays swept br Into beads of her cold sweat br Hundred more Suns did reflect br At once, glowing bright br br Her toil since childhood br Bestowed her the best shape br To make jealous any Miss World br Her rhythmic movements br While at work or when br She does simply walk br Can sure invoke poetic zest br To follow her elegant gait br To run eloquent into metrical beats br br Those countless tears and holes in her sari br Struggling to cover her raw, rustic beauty br Are like windows to her explicit misery br br Her total muliebrity so natural br Like a leaf amongst leaves br A flower amongst flowers br Flowing like a gushing waterfall br br No wild surmises about her br She is not a glittering cine-star br Nor a cover girl on a tabloid br But, a very common Indian maiden br One of several millions seen br Anywhere in our dear Nation br Paddy fields, labor yards or fish ponds br Salt pans, spinning mills or gold mines br As omnipotent as poverty br Reigning high in this great country br Where womanhood is worshipped br As Goddess Adi Para Shakhty br The holy Generatrix deity br Governess of the whole universe with piety br But in blood and flesh her earthly body br Seen as sheer sex symbol only br By those eyes of leering lechery br She is an oppressed grace br Of God's choicest creativity br She is an ever- drudging human gender br Serving vainglory husbands br And a desecrated living Idol br In a ravaged humane temple br Sathya…….