Snehashree Mandal
The man on their weak, firm
was sitting in back. But
a farm green, plucking red he came again when
carrots, the purple brinjal, the they were returning. The old
peas. His arms muddy, his man turned to look away far. It
head had beads of was not what they thought for
sweat like the girl. He was
dew drops on the weak as
grass & the weeds, bright green. he coughed again.
Back on the door stood the old, frail Her eyes twitched and the
Woman, without a smile. train came to a halt. The young man
Her hairs stood out was under the train, strewn
on her in pieces. Men
head; black, partly stood like stead in the dark
white. A train they were to evening which hid her smile. She was
take, selling vegetables in a crowd mute as she looked at
of kites & soaring eagles. her own arms, she
The old man, weak, knew not
tied up they were so strong,
his sarong, up but warm. Her hairs still stood
to his knees. The girl hid on her head. She went home quietly
behind her father. Her with them. The next day a
breasts hung down without a brassiere. man rose again to
Her nipples rebelled when ask for
hidden under a hundred and a
a shawl. squeeze. The woman ignored,
The young man brought moved on to make a life
his auto, a hundred and She didn’t want to kill, so
a hard squeeze like every other day. she moved to
The daughter was his choice a new
today but the shop in the mall,
Mother under the shade. She tied
won’t let the man a bun now. She smiled & the man
touch her. It could never coughed less. The girl wore
be her daughter, never will be, a dress and went
she barked. The man went to school.
and they carried Finally she was
the load. happily new in the core
