water wives

On this piece of a very parched Earth 

I walk ten thousand leaden steps 

under the burning merciless orb, 

We call the life-giving Sun 

dangling on hips a pot full of water 

while I carry two on my stiff head 

to provide succour to my thirsty hearth  

where the heavily pregnant first wife 

Of my middle aged husband 

bake millet chapatis for the master of the house, 

as I wash away the dirt, sweat and blood 

to ready myself for the nightly chores 

befitting a dutiful new wife. 

-Neha Bansal