I walked out

The crimson vermillion Sindhoor though bright and red, turned pale.

Kali’s colour and might has failed to prevail.

The vermillion mixed with tears dripped down my broken cheek;

vows made before the blazing holy fire were ruptured.

The holy incantations lost their meaning, when he smashed his vicious palm on my cheek.

He, whose caresses, sweet nothings and tender gifts of jasmine gajras no longer touched my body and soul.

When did the shift take place?

When did the protector turn the aggressor?

Was it when I stepped out?

Stepped out to earn a penny extra?

For bread had no butter

Two little souls were born out of fleeting caresses.

The first blow started on a dark, bleak evening,

The protector had turned into the aggressor.

Most nights now meant blows and lashes,

But I, I the Kali, Durga and Devi

Withstood it all; The Pavitra Nari

until

Until that fateful night,

When I was slashed with a broken bottle.

The two little faces that watched with dread reminded me,

Of Durga, Kali and Devi.

I walked out with the two little faces,

I walked out

Finally, with pride.