They were calm despite their woe,
They smiled a rugged smile to us.
Their hands were wrinkled with age
Yet on the face I could see a glow
It was a glow of eternal Love flow
With  The Lord who doth bestow.

The virtuous moral strength within them
They pray indefinite number of times
And sing his glory throughout the day
The Widows in Vrindavan that I met
The Maitri Ghar being their comfort zone
They speak, they laugh and cry in natural tone.

Having left behind her family bonds
I never knew, I never thought!
It could be so cruel, it can be so bad
A husband’s death is akin to her own death
For a widow lives a secluded life
All riches left aside being a dead one’s wife

Mingles she not with friends she had
Enjoys not the festivals that she once did
Barred from the family celebrations is she
Lives a life that is so dead and lifeless
Her desires she is meant to now suppress
The wicked world causes her to depress.

Her dignity and vanity alters in a fright
Under pressures that give some folks delight
She shaves her hair from her crown
Discards ornaments and kum kum red
And drapes herself in ugly cottons light
Forbidden for her are the colors all bright.

Yet Maitri Ghar provides her the moral support
Providing nutrition and her spiritual needs
Each one counts on her possessions here
Brand new sets of clothes and a mini wardrobe
Her own gas stove to satiate her taste urge
And her own prayer altar in her shared bedroom.

To each her own possessions are dear
And occasional gifts from visitors bring some cheer
Piyali, Parveen and Ganga take care
To attend to their needs of comfort and prayer
On fasting days they deserve their fruits and milk
and rest of the days their meals with Indian bread.

Once again life becomes more livable
And festivals become celebration
Maitri Ghar brings life back to her
In the companionship of those like her
She lives in dignity of being a Mata
A Mother once again respectable.

Sikiladi