Tale of A Million Midnights

By Saptarshi Chakraborty

In the midnight the half moon gets covered by the clouds

In the little cottage, dreaming innocently, slumbers the young maiden

She wears a white dress, the mattress, colourless too

The Supreme, however, plans to paint her day a shade of hue. 

What caused her deep sleep to interrupt all so hurried? 

Surprised, she wakes up all puzzled, panicked, worried. 

Amid the lap flow down a vermillion coloured dye

The bloodstains paint her clothes and the bed where she lie. 

Seeing this consoles the mother, "Don't you worry, bliss. 

Every young lady your age comes across this. 

Shape yourself this new way from this new day

Strengthen your mind for the forthcoming fray."

To create mothers, such sacred ways the nature did create 

Before the creator, thus, I take a bow and prostrate. 

By Saptarshi Chakraborty