The little dot we live in,

How big the universe is,

Though we worry about our sin,

Thou die Thy will miss,

Heaven or hell why do we care,

when women’s ideas are not for share.

The little dot we live in,

We worry about our kin,

We do not value the life,

Until someone murders with a knife-

but will never surrender even with bloody scraped off skin.

The young maidens care about marriage and betrothal,

Whilst courting they fantasise about a great proposal,

Never do they have to worry about education,

Fostering the husband, house and children is a man’s prediction.

If a maiden hath any adventurous thoughts,

Will get shut down by the man of the house.

Oh the fancy evening gowns they wear!

Elegant corvettes and and fine jewellery is all they care!

How the maidens tighten their corsets until they cannot afford a breath,

How could the men know the pain, as they only feared the pain and memory of their death.

We take our loved ones for grant,

The day they die the mourning prayers we chant,

We remember all the good memories spent with them-

until we realise they are not away

Just one look upon the sky we find them among the many gem.