Soaked in the tears of this home <br />Memories grind me into my bittered life. <br />Earlier days were lively in full bloom. <br />But soon got into this rancid life. <br />I was not the home minister, but <br />In the production of babies and dishes. <br />Not considered to be a prestigious post. <br />Unprofessionally professional was my status. <br />Cutting vegetables for curries and sambar <br />Grinding black gram and rice for dosas <br />Ooh la la la, for everyone at home, other <br />Than me finding no day for my own wishes. <br />Age has put me on the altar today. <br />Children ask me about wasted talents why? <br />What shall i say? that i sacrificed? <br />Or have i been a coward? <br />Ere shaken my mortal, chanting Rama Rama <br />Shall be the best resort to replace the wasted. <br />So Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Hare Rama!<br /><br />Indira Renganathan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hare-rama/
