Sujata, they do not remember you very much,
Though your story would so many hearts touch.
Love opens eyes, it's true, we saw
But now, once again
Closed they remain, and remain.
Pride, too strong to hide, pushes through
The dam of dignity, good will and charity,
It's waves lashing out at their hearts of stone.
So maybe that is our clue...
Sujata, even your beauty, your love's agony,
the happy ending to your story,
designed to bless,
washes only the surface of the filthy rags,
the filthy rags they still call righteousness.
Who will turn the stones to flesh
And that water into wine?
Is it so hard to guess?