I saw a Himalayan woman with glitter in her eyes, catching her breath as she was traversing through the valley carrying fodder on her back,
The shimmering locks framed her face as she pierced through the tall grass and went away.
Off I went to search for her smile which was missing from the day she arrived,
I took a few steps further and saw her soaking the warmth of the sun,
Ah! she was baring herself to the melancholy of the wind.
The Pine and Deodars had known her struggle, with pain in her eyes she admired the terrains,
I didn’t want to break that precious moment between the woman and the mountains, so I left the place on the spur of the moment.
She was happy or sad it was hard to tell, but she had learned the art of breaking while staying strong like the mountains.
This poem is dedicated to all the Pahadi woman, residing in the remote hilly areas of India. Who struggle every day to bring food and fodder for their families. While men move to the cities for livelihood, they single-handedly nurture their kids. To build a nest amidst the verdant hills which they call their home.
The poem depicts the agony of a Himalayan woman, who from birth to death toil every day to keep her family strong. While she hustles, there is no one to hold her back whenever she is sad or unwell. But with time she learns the art of staying strong like the mountains. And not to break or sulk in front of anyone because she believes she is “Shakti” herself.
Let thy spirit be high in love. Namaste
This post was last modified on September 10, 2019 10:54 am
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