At midnight when Raman’s wife yelled,
All the ladies, young and old said:
“Now is the time for the new life to come on earth”,
But all joy disappeared when a girl took birth.
Joyous mouths closed,
Little life was ignored,
Even the moon dried,
All the people cried.
“What injustice had taken place?”
“God’s unhappy” was the phrase.
Sorrow had disguised the grace,
With each one, misery embraced.
“People were in a confused state,
They did nothing but sympathize on Raman’s fate,
Which could not reward him with a boy,
So that the night could transform into fun and joy.
The ‘wise’ took the nameless to the cliff,
And taking the name of the Goddess,
Threw the innocent down
In a manner stiff…
The girl rolled down and down in the air,
Unaware of the approaching death,
It took some harsh and cruel air,
With each moment gone-to extinguish her breath.
And then she hit the ground with a thud,
Another blossom was caught in the paternal bud.
With one last blink, she closed her eyes,
Again her desire to live unnoticed flies.
Oh, little girl, I feel sorry for you,
For you were unable to understand the Indian hue,
To bring a revolution we perspire,
To fulfill your first and last desire.