The auspicious green perspective

This poem is being submitted as a post on

“A perspective on roles of Indian Women”

Indusladies 2nd Annual International Women's Day Blog Contest

A fertile green
in several avatars,
She,
is a story
scripted by
the Trees of the Land.

She is the young rice,
childlike green
in the wet fields,
sometimes petulant, drying away
sometimes overcome and washed away,
but when older,
transplanted
unasked,
elsewhere,
to thrive and give of herself,
the woman of rural India...

She is the dainty rose
in a garden,
next to a rowdy guava tree;
holding her own,
sometimes
coquettish in a maiden''s hair,
sometimes
devotional at the heavenly feet;

She revels in friendship
with the champa tree,
as well as the mogra bush,
and gives space
to the jasmines and parijaats
of the world as well
while supporting those
that remain green,
and grow,
but never flower....

And what do you say
about
Lady Mangrove -

She who tolerates
and thrives
in
salty mush,
daily overcome
by waves and tides of misfortunes
some from the sea,
and some
from the land,
rapacious avaricious killers,
out to replace her..

Chained with the
sisters ,
roots entangled
she stands to protect
erosion of those
she considers her own....

Higher up
Shethani style, She sits,
and flowers in season,
a Page 3
of the woods,
laden with fruit,
some sweet,
that go to far off lands,
but some,
when plucked,
by dedicated hands,
and magically processed
turns into
sweet and tasty delights
for the children of the land.

There is of course
an upkeep
for the grand lady;
but such is life
in this land.

But sometimes,
well entrenched
in the land that
empowered her,
She proudly stands,
sheltering
younger and weaker ones,
in her shade,
as she digs deeper
into the earth for her strength;

The warrior tree,
facing the wrath
of the goonda wind
and hatchet elements,
her proud tough spine,
and roots
hanging down
to clutch the earth,
a Mother
fearless
for the children,
the Ma Banyan,
ageless and tough
against
trespassing winds.

Kalpavriksha sentinels,
some who stand,
tall and tough,
Medha Patkars
and Sindhutai Sapkals,
rising up to the skies
to lead...

They give of themselves
in every way,
honest and ramrod straight;
Seasonal slipping branches
landing with a thud,
and industrious hands
fashion them into baskets
and mats;

Born in fertile numbers
Her little fruits,
are taken away
while some drop off,
after she teaches them
to dedicate themselves
to feeding the hungry,
the thirsty,
the revellers,
and the sick.

Tough nuts to crack,
but soft and sweet inside
like their Mother.

And then,
some,
beauties ,
and 'useful'
in their prime,
now isolated,
hurt,
broken,
unable to counter
loneliness,
withering away
in their own Vrindavans.....

This land
is so rich with
Smart trees,
Thinking geriatric trees,
Young beauteous bushes,
Fragrantly divine trees,
Brave defiant trunks
on Leader trees,
Generous altruistic trees,
Ant like small
industrious greens
enriching the land;
but mostly
taken for granted
by all.....


Women Power;
if only
environment
was religion to us,
and greening our Puja,
the women
would get their place
in the scheme of things...



I would like to tag (as per the rules) and request my friends below to participate....:

1. Uma S.
2. Swati Ram
3. Padma R.