Rustic Maid, grew you up <br />In the rustic villages, <br />I mean the thorps and hamlets of Poor India <br />Where reigned it <br />Poverty and illiteracy, <br />Backwardness and underdevelopment, <br />Hunger and superstition, <br />A small girl <br />Passed you <br />Your days in doing home-works, <br />Field works, <br />Working hard, <br />Getting less, <br />Unable to eat, drink, clothe and dress, <br />Oil and apply on, <br />A poor girl living poorly, <br />Looked after your small brother, <br />Helped the mother, <br />Cooked food after <br />Hand fanning and puffing into a blaze <br />The dry leaves and haystacks <br />Into the earthen oven <br />Where Poverty too wept <br />To see the conditions so miserably <br />And after feeding all, took you <br />The left-overs, <br />The Poor Girl-child of India, <br />But after seeing you weeping <br />As for the ribbon, hair bands and pins, <br />Clips, myrtle leaves, beauty spots, <br />Hair oil, red liquid-colour for the toes, <br />Face cream, face powder, <br />I too feel sad, very, very sad for this.<br /><br />Bijay Kant Dubey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/you-a-villagerly-poor-girl-child-of-india-weeping-for-cosmetics-my-love-and-i-can-t-give-it-to-you-how-can-it-be/
