My Village Part 3 Village Belles
After an introduction
to Lord’s manifestation
in trees, paters, and stone
for the villagers’ protection
peep in me my gratitude to chalk
on my adorable village womenfolk.
in my village, they were not born
but a life long they struggled, it to adorn.
At an age when at present to play and chat
on marriage their villages they had to part
carrying a family burden on their shoulders
to nurture old in-laws and fickle youngsters
and also lending support to their spouses
to sustain the social obligations of their houses.
Adopt, they soon despite their age and wisdom.
Salutes mankind, to their endurance awesome.
They turn poetess and singers from heart
composing on sport singing when some part.
Their tongues curl and produce such sound
to receive the propitiation Lord gets bound.
The arts painfully encrypted on their physique
modern man may criticize but it had its thrill and mystique.
Though born and brought up at far off places
their bondage for a joint effort find no differences.
on a husking pedal, their joint efforts amaze all
Wonderfully synchronize they with their gossips or carol
their group visits in morning and evening to the river shore
with rising or setting sun on the horizon no poet can ignore.
their gossips with many grapevines and spiced many a story
modern criticism on their backwardness never robs their glory.
their change cloth after bathing in river
an act oft repeated but remains a wonder
Some of them must be the originator
cashless tardae with exchange barter
From cloth to bangles, utensils to dry fishes,
any crops can be negotiated so that none loses.
the decoration on the mud wall or on muddy floors
with colors from grains and leaves, world adores.
their support in the crops field
after completing the household works add to the yield.
their addresses to one another create unique bondage
Jhampa Ma,Ketaki bou, Baul many such names as per age.
If a mother was weak her child is breastfed by another mother
“Whether based on this Krishna went to Gopapur” now I wonder”.
Endless will be my story if I recollect on them my feel
Tears roll, as all have been crushed by time by its wheel.
(Prasant Kumar Routray
In service of Lord)
(N B This the third part of my journey to tell on my village. On this topic I have failed to touch even a( microsome is names called yn Oriya languages.)