• Rijuta Dighe

The little pink flower bud!

This is a poem I wrote when I was in the 9th grade (15 years old). It was written in my native language Marathi. I have provided a rough translation below for non native speakers as well.

The poem is on female infanticide. The complete poem is written as a metaphor between a flower bud and an unborn girl child.

Here it goes:

ती कळी

एकदा एका झाडाला लागली चिमुकली कळी. दिसायला नाजूक, देखणी नि गुलाबी. सकाळी आजोबा अंगणात गेले, त्यांनी त्या कळीला आनंदाने पहिले. फूल होण्यापूर्वीच कळी झाडापासून विलगली, जग बघण्याआधीच देवाघरी गेली झाडाला त्या दुख झाले खूप मला सांगा आजोबा काय हो माझ्या कळीची चूक? इतर झाडे सारी तिथली नुसती बघत राहिली, मदतीला मात्र कोणी जाऊ नाही शकली ... काय रे माणसा अशी कशी तुझी वृत्ती फूल उमलण्याआधीच का रे मारतोस कळी? कोणाला बांधणार तू राखी? कोण करील तुजवर माया? विचार थोडा कर जरा कळीविना निसर्गाची अधुरी नाही का किमया? जन्माला येण्याअगोदर , नको मारू मुलीला भविष्यातील प्रगतीचा , तीच तर आहे पाया ...

The English translation goes as follows:

Once there was a blossoming tree,

On which, flourished a little bud,

Delicate to look it,

She was tender and blush

The next morning,

Grandpa went to the garden,

He gazed at the little bud,

Overjoyed and jubilant.

Before flowering,

the bud got separated from the the tree,

Before fathoming the world,

She got forced to the almighty.

The poor mummy tree,

was deeply forlorn,

She asked Grandpa, "Tell me,

Where did my baby bud go wrong?"

All the other trees present there,

Just kept on looking,

Although to help the blossoming tree,

Not a single one could go running.

Oh, you sinister man,

Why do you possess such an attitude?

Before blossoming itself,

Why do you kill buds in their cocoons?

Would anyone ever love you more than your mother?

Can you ever replace your sister?

Just think, Isn't this nature,

Incomplete without these pretty little buds?

Do not kill baby girls

before they are even born,

Because for a soaring society,

We need women to be benevolent and strong!

Thank you!

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