a poem abt a working woman who nevr gets appreciated even after killing many work serpents |
The Serpent Killer So many serpents, Oh so many of them! Raise their shimmering black heads and Hurl toward me, As I enter the house. They are of al the sizes; of all types Some of them are big and venomous; Some are tiny and prakny, Insignificant but existent. They jump on me all over. Some of them entrap my feet so I cannot move, Some rise up to my shoulders, Some roll around my arms and knees And some jus keep staring at me from far Never coming close enough. My soul’s desires and my mind’s solace Leap out of my body, And hide in some unseen corner. I forget al about myself And prepare my already tired body to kill them All of them. Whole day, this hide and seek continues. I kill most of the serpents and some of them; Get out of my sight and hibernate Just to erupt again next day. And when HE comes home, He looks at my fatigued body, That is unable to serve any one any more And says ‘what of it now? You slept well last night Came home from work in the noon What have u been doing all day then? What about this tired body and restless mind? I want but no answers Just serve me now and serve me right.’ I silently listen to his command; And bend to do what he says, Wondering in my heart Did not he see his ironed clothes hanged in his closet? And the well attended baby? What about this prim and prissy lounge? And well maintained bed room? What about those never ending kitchen cores? Why can HE not see these serpents I’ve been killing whole day! Some of them did hide though and they recur Again in front of him now; And he shouts, ‘Look here! Its dust on the couch And that guest room’s bath room is not properly washed! Why don’t you watch over the maid? Instead of sleeping whole day?’ I take all the blames done or not done by me, On my soul and commit with myself to kill Those tiny work serpents next day. And next day when I come home, many new serpents, Oh so many of them, hurl toward me; I kill most of them, But some hide to recur in his presence. And he comes home and shouts, ‘What of it now? What have u been doing whole day except for sleeping? See its dust on the couch……’ It’s just then that all my efforts go futile The serpents win and I yield |