Requiem for Womanhood
Standing awed beneath the grand and silent marble domes,
Raped of bejewelled adornments by the British Raj
Dwarfed by one man’s testimony to the power and
The majesty of love and masculine might
The story of legend, the mystical, mythical Taj Mahal
Soars silhouetted against the azure sky
Swooping, seeking, swirling the pariah kites fly
And the soft footfalls of generations of women,
Beat like battered butterfly wings in flight
They call for freedom within the confines of my mind
Their blood runs through history, shed by society
Woman’s fate always by men to be possessed
By history, circumstance and culture oppressed
This most exquisite monument so aptly also a tomb
Hopes and fears of womanhood for eternity interred
All lie uneasily within the Taj’s icy marble womb
The crackle and kiss of fire stirs the leaves of time
Blood drenches the corridors of memory
Shed by those honoured with the red bindi
Thrown on the funeral bier like a rag doll
In locked rooms, dripping kerosene, women stand
Waiting for the conflagration, sacrificed to war
Offerings of men, waiting for their doom
Even today the girl steps out her parent’s door
Property of the groom, part of her family no more
The Taj, that exquisite monument to romance,
Holds all these truths within her heart and triumphs above
The pain, the sorrow, the endless bloodstained tears
Mute testimony to the power of womanhood
A most beautiful and enduring testament to love
She enslaves your heart and haunts you down the years.
