Old is gold! What about the rituals, then?
Was it nice to plunge a widow
Over into the irate fire medow
With her burning husband's corpse
Because living or even thinking without him is a curse
No choice, no explanation, no reason for the blind custom
Just the screams and endless woe and tears manifold.

Old is Gold! What about the rituals, then?
Did it seem apt to decorate the stand
Where holy wows are took promising conjunction
When the girl's age is represented by a single number?
Or was it something beautiful when she is forced into chores
Not knowing anything about her rights
Or the wrong they did to her young, gullible soul

Old is gold! What about the rituals, then?
Was it delightful when girls were forced into jobs?
The kitchen or the fields?
The feet sore from the constant toil
And marked black by the dirty clothes and coil
And if they didn't obey the orders conveyed
Killed bruitaly or raped mercilessly

Is that how Old is Gold defined?
Or is it the sacrifice of Rani Laxmibai and Rasia Sultan
Warriors like Rudramadevi and Matongini Hajra
Who stood as tall as Draupadi and Sita
Glowing victoriously like Ma Durga.
They promised security, equality and freedom — fought for it
Their whole lives at the feet of virtue and what is right
And that is what should be valued to be the Gold in Old.
Because not all diamond shine and not all Old is Gold.

— Urja Ghosh
(BookLoverVenue)