Facing the wrath of the blazing Sun,
She, with her tangled hair, toothy smile, deeply lined face ;
in a coarse cotton and battered bag,
walks through the lofty gates of a mansion ;
A fine blend of art, wealth and grandeur.
With agility and honesty,
She serves the Lady,
sharing sometimes her joys,
but many a time her woes,
her struggles, in the war of 1971;
leaving behind her riches,
crossing over from known to unknown,
in search of a stable home.
Everyday, from afar the Lady looks;
immersed She in her own world,
creating tales on a shiny poplin,
with figures of different hues and views,
tending, at times, the unwanted creepers,
running, every time, to look after
her frail, old mother.
Then, there was a day ,
tears trickling down the face,
wetted the unfamiliar elephant,
on a piece of grey;
the Lady prodded,
felt her pain and
gifted her a pair of specs.
One bright morning, She
tip-toed towards the Lady,
with a colorful embroidery,
laced with love and gratitude,
but the Lady knew,
the gesture : a reflection
of her pride, self-respect
and her true identity.