Tag Archives: Child

On a Sunday Haat


On a Sunday haat

I’ve seen a girl

Sixteen or so,

Selling vegetables,

With a wow child on her lap,

Scrambling for breasts.  

The girl dithers,

And fears the male eyes,

They aren’t her suitors,

All busy gentle clients,

Time is money,

And not a minute more they spare.

So what’s the choice?

Some faces are known,

And many strange,

A festival day she calculates,

And looks sideways,

 And tears asunder the door of subsistence.

Beginning days were hard,

She was shy, and timid,

And knew not the ways of the bazaar,           

Day by day,

She counts coins,

And becomes bold.

So she wars with the lusty gazes,

 And thumps her baby

Under her sari,

And the child gropes and scrabbles

And sucks her mother,

And she flashes.

Child of Delight

If I could fill your life with the serenity and magic of fairy tales,
I sure would.
If I could transport you to a true magic kingdom
Of angels and nymphs,
I sure would.
I wish I could carpet your path with roses and
The mirth of sweet spring.
I wish I could give you all this and much more.
But as I whisper your sweet name today,
Just know that life will not always
Sparkle like a diamond.
From your paradise of innocence,
Life will, by and by, suck you to a domain
Of wonder and sin,
Which won’t be magical anymore.
Till then, my child of delight,
I sing of the spring with you in my arms,
Whilst the rough winds shake and ruffle
The brushstrokes of the fairy land
We have painted together.

Footnote: Written for my daughter Mithi who is six now, growing up fast and whose belief in Santa Claus, fairy tales and angels are diminishing everyday.

Daddy Said —

Daddy said
I was his little girl,
Daddy said
I was his pretty doll,
Daddy said
I was his precious pearl,
Daddy said
I would never fall…

Daddy said
He’d pat me to sleep,
Daddy said
He’d take me to the park,
Daddy said
He’d never make me weep,
Daddy said
He won’t leave me in dark…

Daddy said
I’d get a toy every day,
Daddy said
I was as sweet as honey,
Daddy said
He would love me anyway,
Daddy said
But I should not tell Mommy…

Daddy said
It wouldn’t hurt his baby,
Daddy said
I should close my eyes,
Daddy said
He would sing a lullaby,
Daddy said
It would feel so nice…

But I cried
‘Cause it hurt so much –
I cried, I cried,
But he didn’t listen to me –
I cried, I kicked,
When he tried to touch –
I got tired
And cried, “Please Daddy!”

Daddy said
It was all past,
Daddy said
I should forget it,
Daddy said
The pain wouldn’t last,
Daddy said
It’d go bit by bit…

But daddy’s baby
Is gone to the angels –
There she is happy
With roses and bluebells,
With other daddies’ babies,
With her own gown and tiara,
And dolls, toys and teddies,
But without her Ma and Pa…

© Sana Rose – June 20th, 2012


Yesterday, I was constantly disturbed by the news story I read in the papers, about the arrest of a French consulate official for raping his 3 and a half years old daughter. His wife is a Keralite and they have been in Bangalore, India, with their three kids since one year ago, for his assignment. And she filed a case against her abusive husband for repeatedly raping their daughter, when she found out about it, when the little girl began protesting in her own way and always pleaded not to hurt her.

I wrote this poem from the little girl’s POV, but a 3-year old’s words won’t be this grown. So, I chose to write what all Daddy might have said and made her believe. This is fictitious with a different end, the news incident was only a push to write another of my all-time mission of writing about the crimes against and suffering of girls and women.