They make me their goddess.
Kneel and pray,
Oh! I know
They want a lot from me.

I try to speak out, that
I can not
Give you anything,
It is for yours to earn.

They see me as a mother,
And daughter
In faith, yet they
Let me go with the river.

I have a life, so short –
Four days
Squeezed, and
I know I’d be forgotten.

Yet, they revive me
From the mud
Smeared on straw and
With colors, so alive.

Every year, I find myself
A new home, and
A new father;
I feel, I’m reborn in vein.

I could not tell them
Do not hate and fight
All you seek is within,
You just need an insight.

[This poem is about ‘Durgapuga’, the greatest religious festival of Hindus in West Bengal India, celebrated in the month of September/October with a fortune, which could have been used for a greater cause. The clay idol of ‘Durga’, the Goddess, is created, worshiped for four days and then immersed in the river. In many occasion the remnants of the idol is pulled out of river to be used next year and that has been the inspiration of this poem]

Photo Credits: Reetam Banerjee

I would like to know what you think about this :

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.