as i make way to school.
I see through the glass
find my mom sitting pretty.
Neatly dressed in ironed sari
glancing through the newspaper.
It is I who has to go to school
while she spends her time happy.
It is lunch time. Return home
for lunch. Mom is busy playing
Veena, Melody flows. I finish meals
get back to school in a jiffy.
My eyes turn yellower still.
She is bestowed with the best
while I go up and down
every day. I curse myself.
One day I will be like her,
I console myself. That day comes
no sooner, alas! I am nowhere near
to her status. My hands are always full,
domestic chores keep demanding,
business calls allow no quietude.
I never make big off any venture,
yet keep running all through.
The yellow in my eyes slowly
wanes. A trace of it remains, though
The comforts my mother enjoyed
could never become mine.
The expertise she possessed
made her blessed while I remain
an ordinary woman, who
has to be alert always
to the duties that govern till life
calls quits.
Meenas Poems 