There aren’t any children to play with her

She tells her granddad, you’re the student, and I, the Principal.
She instructs her grandmom to ensure he doesn’t play any pranks.
Her aunt and uncle are there to tease, quarrel, and to get what she wants.

To her great-grand-dad, who can barely hear,
she exhibits her singing with elaborate hand beats.

The Barbie doll, whose eyes have been plucked out,
wearing a cloth around the cavities,
was, till yesterday, Gandhari.
Holding a weighing scale made of coconut twigs,
she has, today, become the Angel of Justice.
She also has a pet name, Vizhi, meaning eyes.

While going to see a farm,
she calls the calf on her toyphone
to inform it, she was on the way.

There aren’t any children to play with her.
She alone isn’t fussed about it.
Around her, she has made everyone, and everything,
a child.

(Translation of my original post in Tamil)

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