Agreed, I don’t have the kind of naked mind you do.
Mine never could dare to pour oil over a burning hut.
I too, had lit a stove,here,in this very hut
To straighten out those bent hut-like.
These huts burn daily,chewing a morsel or two,
Poised,as it were, to spit at the sun.
Cultured ladies walking lightly- you’ll meet them everywhere,
Dainty, offering themselves,
But mothers and sisters in huts
Will pawn their managalsutras carelessly.
Go ahead,.Beat the drums of chastity
Of the shameless condemnation;
I feel nothing about it..
I don’t have the kind of naked mind you do;
I really don’t.
Translated by P.S.Nerurkar
The mangallsutras is the wedding necklaces of Maharastrian women.Nerurkar’s translation has been changed slightly,