That girl cycling her way to school
Is like a fresh flower on the move
A sachet on her back with text books
And sparkling dreams in her clear eyes
She is out intent a point to prove
She must be the pride of her parents
A shining lamp of her village
grove!
When I go out for errands to the
road
Almost every day her I hope to meet
A veil of chaste white covers her head
As the custom is in
their community
She always chirps “good morning”
to greet
Glad I am to see her grow in wisdom so
With her light much darkness she
will beat!
For the last two weeks that blue bicycle
Hasn’t been on this way to A.D.P.
High
If a student is absent from
her classes
For a day or two, it’s nothing to
think
But two weeks is a long screaming
cry
What has happened to Salma, the
smile?
A worrying query in my mind
begins to fly
From her friends I got her village
address
Her humble home in a cluster I found The story I heard from women was sad
Her maternal uncle had taken her
by force
To Bihar to make her marry his son
unsound
How could he do it, she wanted to
study?
Was she a goat to be dragged so
bound?
How cruel of him to crush her young
dreams
But what can you do, O dear
Moonheart?
This is common among their
community
To get the girls married in early
teen age!
A religious custom can one dare
thwart?
Salma’s uncle was compelling her
to marry
The moron of his son unfit to pull
a cart!
To her earnest pleas he turned
deaf ears
She never wished to be a teenage wife
Her heart was in her studies in
Bengal
She wanted to fulfill her dreams first
Her tender mind thrown in violent strife
Finding no way to escape the
unacceptable
She took the sad step to end her tearful
life!
Xavier Bage
Tues, 23 Feb 2016
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