Working Woman Blues
(translated from Hindi, original by Manasvi S.)

She leaves her home when others yawn

Hits the street at crack of dawn

Starting her sweat at early morn

Leaving her moorings, where she was born

 

Early begins her day-long toil

Stove to light, water to boil

Cooking and cleaning

Feeding and weaning

Doing the laundry

For all and sundry

Piping lunch for beaming guests

And feasts that bring joy at fests

She works the charms of an unreal elf

Scraping the bowl to feed her self!

 

She does her chores when others yawn

To hit the streets at crack of dawn!

 

The streets are glowing, with sun-burnt tar

The roads are melting, and she’s no car

Silent roads, suffering roads

Crushed by wheels that move the loads

All that stress, and all that noise!

Oh, she has a highway’s poise!

 

She pours that tar, she builds those roads

She bears those brunts, with womanly code

Forces a smile on a sweaty face

Carries her drill, swathed in grace.

 

But only when she brings, her take-home pay

“Working woman,” we deign to say?