In her rain-drenched body, She was burning with a 104-degree fever, And in her schoolbag lay the silent omen That her education was about to come to an end. No one bothered to understand Why she came back home completely soaked. In that rain that had poured down So suddenly... How could she have found A single safe place Where she could shield herself and her schoolbag? The school veranda after closing hours, The roadside canteen, The betel shop, Ravi’s automobile garage, Or even the government waiting-hall With "Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao" (Save daughters, educate daughters) painted on its wall— None of them offered a truly safe roof for a young girl. How could she have stopped and waited there? She had seen the predatory eyes, Ranging from ages fifteen to seventy-five, Reaching and piercing right through her school uniform. From hands that took perverted pleasure in groping her Under the guise of giving blessings— How could she have begged for shelter? She had overheard the crude, half-whispered, And jarringly abusive words coming from the nearby tea stall. In an effort to keep her schoolbag dry, How could she allow her heart and soul to be utterly drenched in filth? Her friend once told her That if one learns to hide the truths of their heart, One can easily hide under anyone’s roof when it rains. But because she could not hide the truth of what she faced, Along with her schoolbag, a restrictive string Was tied to her legs…