By Manupriya Jauhari
When skies were blue and grass grew anew,
When winds ran free and rivers too,
We were but whispers, unheard, unseen,
Buried beneath the weight of centuries.
We were the nurturers, caregivers, bringers of new life,
Yet we were not seen, mere shadows in the light.
We stitched the world with hands so tender,
Yet our names were lost to time’s cruel ember.
We held up kingdoms, we mended the broken,
Yet our voices remained soft, our truths unspoken.
But embers do not die—they smolder, they burn,
And now, from the ashes, we rise in return.
The brave ones fought for the daughters of the soil,
To give them identity, to end the turmoil.
One Indian queen, fierce and unchained,
Rani Laxmi Bai, remember the name.
She rode into battle, her sword like a flame,
For freedom, for honour, she carved her name.
One stood her ground, refused to bend,
She sat till the end—Rosa Parks, my friend.
With quiet defiance, she lit a spark,
A fire that burned through the cold and dark.
A girl in an attic, with dreams so bright,
Anne Frank wrote through the endless night.
Her words still echo, soft yet strong,
A voice of hope that time prolongs.
In a world full of men, with flame untamed,
Marie Curie defied and claimed—
Science and wisdom, the power untold,
She carved her path in rays of gold.
Women of time, resilient and strong,
They carried wounds that bled too long.
Once silenced, once cast aside,
Now they stand tall as humanity’s guide.
They threw us off cliffs—so we learned to soar.
They chained our hands—so we opened new doors.
They lit the pyres—so we walked through flame,
And rose from the ashes, never the same.
They buried us nameless, unseen and unheard,
Yet we carved our stories through scars and verse.
For every daughter who was never allowed to breathe,
We broke the chains, we learned to lead.
Once told to kneel, we now take the throne.
Once left in the dark, we carved paths of our own.
What was stolen, we claimed again,
Not as victims, but as women who reign.
No longer whispers, nor shadows dim,
But voices that thunder, that rise, that win.
From ashes we bloom, fearless and bold—
Daughters of Ashes, their stories retold.