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The Teen Ink Books Series

Chicken Soup for the Teen Soul Book - Real-Life Stories by Real Teens

« Previous Article Travel and Culture Index Next Article »

Daughters of Indian Soil

Ranna C.,
Monmouth Junction, NJ

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By Nicole Anne B., Ras Al Khaimah, UAE

Our daughters go abroad to marry
Rich men speaking funny languages.
Why, they do not even know
How to grind a coconut on the sill,
Or draw water from the well.
With much love, for the little ones,
When we were babies, I remember,
Saddled on mammas sari-draped waist
Our thirst was quenched with the fresh spring;
And in that spring, would die,
The sweat and tears of dead villagers,
The plague drew them to bhagwaan each year.
Our daughters are blind,
They are a living shame
For in their heart is the Indian spirit
Caged in and imprisoned
In a culture that they do not belong to
Our daughters of Indian soil.





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