October, 2020

A poem on the work conditions of women in the informal sector

3 minutes read

She weaves, rolls papads and beedis to earn survival,

Her world revolves in concentric circles,

No sunrise brings her hope and vigor,

No Sunset shows her way out of this riddle;

She sells vegetables, works on farms,

Carries cement at construction sites,

The wage difference she gets paid for bearing a womb

Is the poor excuse she has started believing for a while;

She works at households,

Cleans their dirty utensils and clothes,

Her identity is not crucial to this society,

She has been gracefully gifted

The dark and damp corners for eternity;

No matter if fit or sick,

She is sometimes forced to work,

Her boss ill-treats her, challenges her dignity,

‘Bonded laborer’ is now her label to gulp!

Because they claim she owns no skills,

No one cares here about helping her to guide;

Maternity leaves and payment for overtime work

Are nothing more than fairy tales by some wise;

She is not fortunate enough,

To be a part of an open-minded community,

Here, her stepping out

Challenges orthodox of society;

She works behind the veil,

Her master bears no face,

He pays her hard work in uncertain pennies,

And rewards her with sexual abuse 

And plenty of disgrace;

Her religion and her minority status

Itself is enough to deny her existence,

She is a bonded laborer, a migrant worker,

The sexual abuse is now a daily ritual;

Some lands refuse to accept her,

She migrates from one terrain to another,

With a baby in her womb and two in her shadow,

She keeps fighting quests and endures life’s cradle.

She is a lady imprisoned in the modern world,

The face this world failed to recognize as an organized one,

The face which hides in the dark corners of society,

The face which gets gulped by vultures of greedy commerce;

She has tried to shout and share her plight,

The so-called social norms and disparity

Managed to gag her and mute her for eternity,

But she continues to embrace this ironic way of life,

As brilliantly discriminatory as black and white!

She had hopes from the so-called legislation,

A hope that pages full of schemes and laws

Would come to her rescue one day

But she wasn’t surprised,

When they too failed to hear her say;

No one is there to see if the schemes are feasible,

If her skills can be enhanced to adequacy,

If she has any social security,

If this country has money left to invest in humanity!

She can’t rescue from this quicksand,

She has nowhere else to go,

There are just no hands willing to help,

No Support system to grow!

She needs a legislation

Where her cry will not go unheard,

Where her exploitation will be felt a personal loss,

Where the world will understand her beyond just words;

I hope one fine day, all of them will unite,

And tell this lawful society how inadequate their laws are,

Maybe some so-called educated souls will rise from their warm seats,

And justice will prevail for once and all!

Team