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The author pens an ode to the farmer women who work as hard as the men and yet their labour goes unnoticed.
This poem is an ode to the indefatigable spirit of the farmer woman. These strong women are praiseworthy in their own right. Their unflagging labour nourishes us. Standing side by side with their farmer men, these women toil endlessly in the fields and at home and yet go unsung.
Born into a life of manual toil, these women embody a strength that is truly astounding. They may not have a bountiful table in their homes and yet they sow the seeds to feed the populace of the nation. Truly a selfless feat!
The press has been very vocal in communicating farmer suicides in India. An alarming issue in itself, no doubt but, somewhere, somehow the sacrifice of these women does not get recorded. They are not spoken about, they are not thanked and they are never recognized.
Hence, the poem is an ode to such women who tirelessly support their men. It is an effort to recognize those women who silently work towards elevating the men in their lives to a stature that gives them a dominating presence. This poem is an effort at recognizing their presence.
The lines tell a story that the eyes belie,
For they are serene amid raging storms.
It is not for naught that there are facial creases,
For they tell a story of endurance and survival.
She squints up at the sun, a hand to her brow
Gazing upon the day that has dawned.
There is a purposeless placidity in her sight,
There is a vacancy in her sentiment.
The hand to her brow is wizened with age,
All crinkled and brown as the baked earth.
The mother whose bosom she has tilled
And sown with the seeds of her toil.
A sedulous life steeped in penury,
Day after day brewing into darkness.
Her reality harbors neither hope nor desire,
Only a calm acceptance of her station.
Image Source: Pixabay
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