Devadasi

Devadasi, tired of dancing in the temple complex All through your life, Pursued by an oracle, a soothsay As seen by the presiding priest Superstitiously, blindly, Not in the clear light of day, Persuaded by the astrologers, Seconded by horoscope-makers and palmists, Daydreams seen again, Featuring again in the nightdreams, You come out, come out Of the ghetto of the middlemen, The florists, guards and abnormals, As the temple not the place of yours And you too cannot keep company of The duplicate fellows And they too not the right men To be befriended And to be confided in? Devadasi, who brought you here, What were the situations compelling upon, How the times, The situations implied upon, I just think, think about them, The temple priests, The astrologers and the palmists Who prophesized, Who took the promise from your parents Holding the hands of Before God And making them swear in the name of god, Who the horoscope-makers Who made the horoscope to foretell The goodluck not, Who the palmists Who saw the palm to say And how the attendants, The florists, door-keepers, guards And nightlong loitering priests, What religion and piety to them, What chastity and virtue to be spoken of And how long can a young woman dance In the temple courtyard, Keeping the company of mute gods and goddesses As a yogan, a sadhvi, O, how long, Oh, where have we come to sinfully!