She was born of a woman,
And grows to attain her womanhood;
But succumbing to the societal man,
She loses her childhood;
She desires and craves for a world of her own,
But fails to get it, and all her choices, gone;
Does only child-bearing qualify her motherhood,
Or the family-rearing from her childhood?
She like an ant is made to toil,
Harder and harder on all kinds of soil;
She happily does it, with all her heart,
With no regrets, she does her part;
All summed-up in pain from bed to grave,
All she does is just for her dear ones to be safe;