Found Poem
a flawed preceptdry flatlands of Uttar Pradesh
the Jhansi to Delhi train
makes an unscheduled stop
dust and stone and hot-rail steel
a ghost appears, a ghost
in stained cotton
on a makeshift stretcher
of sheets and ropes
a wailing procession
and solemn whispers …
‘burnt by her father’
a drop in crime of all kinds bar one:
rape and the murder of women
girl babies and grandmothers starve
honour killings
the burning of brides
acid attacks
and dowry deaths
different forms of the same demon
that a Sri Lankan girl
would flee down under
raises eyebrows all right:
because she escaped …
a grim snapshot of women in Asia
with its skewed sex ratio
50 million missing from India alone
maternal mortality the worst in the world
the destruction of schools where women can learn
daughters, sisters, wives and mothers dissolved
in the pious dust of an Islam republic
go to Lahore, a bustling city
of six million souls
count on one hand the women you see
but no wife travels so far
without her husband’s permission
divorce can be deadly and children
belong to the man
commonplace on the streets:
for adultery, stoning to death
but not for the men
beatings for improper dress
gun-toting gangsters ruling by fear
a Hindu widow is committing suttee:
self-immolation in a husband’s flames
thousands gather in praise
of an ancient ritual
based on belief that women
only have worth
in relation to men
Jenny Argante
All lines taken from 'Burnt by her father', by Paul Yandall IN The Listener, March 13th 2004
posted by Jenny Argante @ 1:13 AM
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