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A Daughter's Revenge - Poem

Rinita is a creative writer, with focus on poetry. She delves into several forms including Haiku/Senryu, Sonnets, Free Verse, and Prose.


A fictional tale narrated through poetry, this story is about family bonds, skin colors, the importance of education, and most of all, grit and will power.

The Poem

Part I

She was named ‘Krishnaa’, for dusky was her skin

She lived with her father, down the fertile hill

On the field he toiled dawn through dusk, while

Krishnaa learned her alphabets, with no time to kill

Agile tree-climber, the ten-year-old was

To the free village school, she walked a mile

Her study was the shade of the banyan tree

Solitude of a thick branch, away from the wild guile

And so, they lived, father-daughter duo

Singing merrily the jolly tune of love

At nightfall, they slumbered dreamlessly

While stars bestowed blessings from above

Part II

Krishnaa was twelve, when Satan came as human

Tore apart the village, took away all the girls

New rule established, under the Devil’s order

Krishnaa hid her sobbing face, behind her thick curls

Her old man begged, wailed and wept

“Don’t take my daughter, I’ll do anything”

They merely scorned, with a mirthless laugh

“Now to your empty house, you may cling”

The field workers turned into bonded slaves

All their patches of land snatched away by fraud

Not a wage, the lads burned their skins

And pined for their daughters, still praying to God

Part III

The girls were sorted by the color of their skin

Fair ones boarded a ship towards strange tides

Krishnaa, among a few others left behind

Stood frozen on the land, bidding tear-less goodbyes

Dark-skinned girls were given a darker corner

At the palatial household of the new ruler

One meal a day, and household slavery

Destined they were, to the days crueler

She sobbed on the damp sheet, for nights together

Longing for her father’s arms, but her brain sharper

Imagining terrible things of her fair comrades

Ruefully thanked her skin, which turned shades darker

Part IV

Turning twenty-one, she looked back one day

She was the only slave who could read and write

Assigned she was to cleaning the library

Of books never read, subdued with a look of trite

Soon she was master of fiction bold

Her life-story-likes styled with breath bated

Her despair she could no longer hold

Opportune moment she quietly awaited

One starless night, the moment came

Out were the leaders, emptied the house hence

Few friends slept away, fatigued from the day

Krishnaa’s agile body crept through the fence

Part V

She ran through the fields, barefoot and weak

Her mind swept to her father’s smiling face

There she couldn’t venture, that she knew

Journeying to the city was her only saving grace

She ran through the forest, weary but willed

Across the dense trees, the river lay

If only she could cross, for low was the tide

Escape she could from this mindless foray

Lakes she swam with ease as a girl

A river’s width was a daunting task

She held her father’s imaginary hand

And dove head first into the black river mask

Part VI

Another ten years passed swiftly

Oh, the things she had seen!

Knocked every door in the city, but turned

Until fate led her to the kindly Queen

Queen was her name, who employed Krishnaa

Taught her independence, and the laws

Brought the village innocence up to the speed

Of breaking from the clutches of the new rule’s jaws

Krishnaa, the advocate, behind her pince-nez

Gathered up her courage and her wits one day

Set off to the village she had once called ‘home’

Rebellious against the ominous clouds grey

Part VII

Soon the cunning rulers were sent behind bars

Krishnaa fought tooth and nail, had them doomed

The ‘new rule’ overturned, peace returned

To the battered countryside, and flowers bloomed

Now was the time, to look for her father

She searched for the little mud house, and its glow

There it was, shattered but held somehow

A tiny lamp flickered, through the misshapen window

Weary old eyes looked up at her dusky face

Wrinkled arms bound her tight, moments flew

“We are free”, she whispered behind her sobs

The lined visage smiled, as it bade adieu

© 2018 Rinita Sen

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