Burn Bride, Burn

A shocking 18 dowry deaths every day, that is, there is one woman dying every 80 minutes in India (link given below).

A reality check for the 21st century: http://www.pucl.org/Topics/Gender/2006/crimes.html

Burn bride, burn
In this world that you did spurn
Not a drop of tear was shed,
On your death,
Just the sound of a newspaper rustle,
Perhaps a shake of head.
Over a cup of morning-tea.

Burn bride, burn.
seeking refuge, when you went home,
Deaf ears greeted your appeals;
Your father looked at you sadly,
You hadn't learnt your lesson well.
"Sita Sati Savitri are your ideals!
daughter dear, suffer if you must,
But do not complain."

Burn bride, burn
"It's for you to adjust,
how else would you live in this world?"
- struggled your brother, to explain.
Your mother, perhaps understood
But held her tongue, and thought,
haven't I lived so far, as well?
my suffering couldn't have all been in vain.
And so she said, with a breaking heart,
"My daughter, my love, my heart, you too,
will eventually learn the sweetness of life's pain."

Burn bride, burn.
And you were sent on your way,
To your "home",
Packing.
One more martyr
in the making.

Tell me, dear bride, as you burned
and screamed in agonizing pain
that drowned within the kitchen walls,
Why didn't you grab hold of your husband's hand,
this one time?
To take him along with you,
and cull his ultimate destiny?
For wouldn't that be following
the truest traditions of your ideals,
Sati, Sita and Savitri?
To reclaim in death,
what was denied in life,
Your right to life with dignity.