Shifts

They named the village
Sons of the soil for it was special
Not in many but one way
To bear a son was the custom
Superior gender, glorified male identity
Prayers, fasts, rituals and magic
Chasing the heir to the landless farmer
Tailing the succesor to the landlord
Heavy women singing hymns
A son, God give me and I will
According to the pocket
A gold diety, meal to ten priests or
A gallon of milk by the lessor
A fruit basket, a sac of grains,
Meal to a priest by the peasant
Moaning and cries at the birth of the inferior sex
Laughter and guffawing to welcome the son of the soil
In the midst of sob and wail, fire crackers
Illuminations and sparklers sparkled the gloom
The house was lighted with candles and lights
A life bundled in a cloth
Holding gently ,proud father introduced
to the townies
"Another girl child ", wobbling came the oldster.
Villagers in a chorus, "Another year, pray for the scion of the lineage".
Consoling to the tribe pricked the defiant father.
Turbulence in the stillness of mourning
Proclaimed with roar like a burning yard
"U- turn to the stigmatic customs".
Ages thence, the village unfurled to the new order of life.

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