Shell

It’s a story of a well

In a remote place where the kings dwell

Girls couldn’t be in a shell

 

No matter it is three

Or a week into thirty three

It’s a girl, a Shree

 

While still in growing spells

Tissues and organs with tiny little cells

Bodies that can’t hear bells

 

Pulled out of slumber

From the mother's number

A bed of dark umber

 

There are thousands

Hanging in the deep seated bands

With no legs or hands

 

 Into the earth's womb

They travel into their dark tomb

Mom can not even comb

 

If by chance you hear

Baby girl’s cries, as the winds tear

With softness of a shear

 

‘Ma Lakshmi! the baby’s here!’

Alas in her world lasting a mere

Couple of cries to hear…

 

She is sent home

Into the milky ocean, with an Aum

Chanting as she drowns

 

Little does she know

The wells In that village show

Through the wind or snow

 

Not only to God’s name

But to the stars and soundless game

Those keep dumping the fame

 

There is no hiding

No, nothing dreading from abiding

It’s going sliding..