She told me
That they treated women like curry leaves floating in the Dal
They put us in the hot oil along with mustard, hing and turmeric
We splutter
We burn
We flavour the dal
And when we are served
We are picked out
And thrown
Straight into the garbage
She told me
Not to be the curry leaves
My Ajji (grandmother) and I both, idiots of the first order
We tried to be the dal instead
And got eaten up
Destiny Poets
Uniting and celebrating the best "Writers" and "Poetry" from around the world centred out of Destiny Church Wakefield
Enjoyed the poem, especially the ironic twist at the end. Loved the connection between the grandmother and the poet.
Kavita ji thank you
Interesting poem…holds the reader’s attention till the unexpected twist…
Pushmaotee ji thank you
A Catch-22 situation for women down the generations is described in this narration of an intergenerational exchange
Amita ji thank you asu much
Yes, never be a curry leaf, be dal, dear poet. nice assertion! kudos poet