নারী, সুনীল বন্দ্যোপাধ্যায়/Nari, Sunil Gangopadhyay

Atheists do not believe in you, Woman
Your hair hanging down like a slash of ink,
You are an enemy of revolution.
In fact you are invisible to many eyes,
Some have not even heard of your name.
Just like watery light mixed with water.
They know lovers or sisters,
Mothers or wives,
The girl at the milk vendor or those
that sing and dance,
and sweat in the kitchen.
Interrupt with a skeletal hand in traffic, child on hip.
They go to schools in pain wearing frocks or a sari perhaps
Or mix tears with cement by the side of a mason.
Gathering donations in a tin,
Or taking lunch to a farmer under an angry sun.
Perhaps sleep in the afternoons
novels near their pillows.
These are the ones who are doing fine.
Everyone knows them in bed, their bodies
In sickness and in health,
as temporary companions.
But Woman? Where is she?
The one celebrated by degenerate poets
for forty centuries.
Where is she? Where is she?
Her hair hanging down like a slash of ink
where does she stand today?
How do you stay hidden in this crowd
Just like watery light mixed with water....

NARI
Sunil Gangopadyay