'Panharan'

In olden times every woman was Panharan,

All the women used to bring home water from the well.

The well used to be miles away,

Had to draw water with a rope.

After that it had to be put in urns,

the sun was at its peak,

That's why there was no break of summer,

The road was rough

There were potholes everywhere.

Stray dogs and animals were always ready to attack,

It was not that easy,

urns stacked one on top of the other,

The shade was made on sight,

When Panharan used to pass through crooked roads,

These vases did not move at all,

which used to indicate stability,

come home and drink that water,

was like nectar