Marigold, roses, jasmine

Tassel, studs, colorful

Chipped nails, faded polish

She is anything but groomed

 With a bag full of baggage

She ain’t any ordinary women

She dresses up to dress down

That’s how she stays alive

 Her spirit died long ago, she says

And her soul - shook up to react no more

 With flowers on her hair,

She charmed my weary eyes

 Long after she passed me by

The fragrance of irony remained….

PS: This poem is about a  sex worker who I came in contact with through Ashodaya, an NGO that works with them.