Parvin: A Poem about Orphanage

One day I was passing by a shanty house, when I heard a childish moan; chasing the sound, I entered the shanty house. There was a humid, damp basement. I came across a little girl who had crouched in a corner of the basement and was moaning. The poor girl was sick and hungry. I realized this when we cleansed her tears and caressed her. Her mother told us that they hadn't eaten any food that day nor did they have any money to take their daughter to a doctor.

I remember that the whole day I stayed with that mother and daughter in that basement which stunk and smelled badly. I held the head of that girl on my knees and cried with her. My friend went and prepared some food. When the poor girl was greedily and eagerly swallowing the loaves of that food, I realized how she was thanking and appreciating us with her innocent looks. I disliked myself for having a shelter and a piece of bread and butter, but not being able to help the poor girl. After all, why should the little girl complain of hunger and illness? Whom should the poor girl complain to? I wished I could stay with the mother and daughter and cry with them that night. But my brother, Fathullah, came and took me away from there. When I composed the following poem, I felt relieved and felt that some of my agonies had been alleviated:

A little kid started complaining

The hands of fate took my mother away

Another came and replaced her at home

Started saying something else

She threw away my mama’s red shoes

Wore my mother’s clothes

Wore my mama’s golden ring

She bought silver and gold necklace

Enrolled her daughter at the school

Called me ignorant idiot

She saw my red eyes but

Laughed with boys and girls