Whack! the Sun slapped the Sky across the face
Scared Dawn, unwillingly, stays out of the race.
Understandably flushed is the Cloud’s forehead
While Morning smiles like a girl newly wed.
Smile, my Morning, the newly wedded bride,
You’d remember if you really were a bride
In this country your father had to sell his land,
To make you a bride on another man’s demand.
Your man took his dowries without a blush
Hard cash, jewelries and a shoe shining brush
Because the skin of your face is quite like a shoe
The scars on your face must be kept shining, too!
The scars on your heart you’d hide with a smile
(This country is, after all, a foreign land defiled)
Lying on the bed that was your father’s gratuity,
With a smile you would rip apart your virginity.
In this land that swears upon the Mother goddess
Hair flowing, you’d rock your baby without recess.
Rock, you would yourself time and time again
Your father died with your dowry unattained.
But your kid’s father wouldn’t stand such a flaw;
An undowried groom is no less than a tiger’s paw!
One day, graced with the same tiger-paw’s blessing,
Hung by your neck, you’d dangle from the ceiling…
As a ghoul, you’d see your dangling corpse turn
And laugh as the night would fade into morn.
The Morn has blushed, actually, out of shame;
Has turned to the Sun for justice, all the same….
And having seen the plight of the human race
Whack! the Sun slapped the Sky across the face.