The sun cast its glory sheath and reddish glow
Her work, half done and yet still more
Cut cane growing ripe and wrinkles grow
Day after day, her windy life she bore.
Yet every afternoon, after a lonely meal,
At the edge of the paddy fields, she just stood.
A moment of thought, she chose to steal,
And think of nothing, her tired soul’s only food.
His duties performed and plants watered,
All deities worshipped and given their share
Little to eat, some rest, but sleep shattered.
Disturbed by dreams, by their redness
Night after night, burning amidst flames
Through the window, he chose to gaze,
At distant cold stars and their naughty games.
Started the river; flowing gently
And by the river, swayed the palm grove
To all secrets the river told, quietly.
In the heat of summer, for a short time
Always, the river died until sky’s end
Though burnt by lightning and no fruit to bear
The palm grove stood, awaiting his river friend.
Paintings by Baburao Painter, Anjolie Ela Menon and Indra Dugar