Meri beti, what to say to you,
A growing daughter in a frock
Loosely hanging onto,
Villagerly and simple,
Affectionate and loving,
I asking her to do this, to do that
For me,
Ordering
And she executing all that submissively,
Meri beti, cchoti-shee beti,
My daughter, smallish daughter?

What it in her destiny, where the pathway,
I just think about, think about
The crisscrosses of her palm,
The crisscrosses of her fate and destiny,
Meri beti, cchoti-shee beti,
My daughter, smallish daughter,
Sometimes smilingly,
Sometimes sadly and slowly
After being scolded and rebuked
She comes to weeping, rubbing the red eyes
With the small hands,
My daughter,
Small daughter?
(The Story of Life)

Bijay Kant Dubey

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