A little bit away from all humdrum and din and bustle
Of the developing hilly town,
I used to see them and come across on the ways leading to.
Cutting along the main way, the side raw road used to diversify
And go towards the school way,
Cutting on the midway like a loop line
And adjoining the main way in the middle of the far off end.
The red soiled, raw road, made from plateau region rough soil
Used to cross over a garbage heap,
Where the municipality used to throw off, dislodge it all
And there from a part of the way used to turn to the garbage heap,
I used to come across many a thing happening therein.
I used to mark the scavenger women pushing the carts
Ay, the wheelbarrows
With the tin loads of human excreta
Being taken to, dragged and pulled over.
Under the hot summer days, under the hot and perspiring summer suns,
I used to see them, mark them,
The scavenger women, the newly wed and the middle-aged and the widows,
Pulling the cartloads and taking away slowly.
The flies buzzing around, the dark green cholera flies
And it would smell very foul, very foul,
And what to say to you,
How to share with you?
During those days, the sanitary latrines had not been in a plenty,
Just the pits people used to be with
And they used to clean the rotting excreta often
At intervals, coming for a routine check and taking away to dispose off,
The rotting and foul excreta.
Sometimes keeping at bay, they used to rest under the cool shade of the tree,
All those women and used to chew betel
To pass on to dispose and dispense it all that,
Ay, the scavenger women throwing off excreta.