(Inspired by a story by Ellen Barry)
My husband is a bouncer in a nightclub in New Delhi.
His muscles crouch like tigers and he hasn’t any belly.
I do not know just what he does as bouncer, but I know
A nightclub is an awful place where horrid demons go.
With me he’s gentle and as mild as any mourning dove,
And never thinks of hitting me or giving me a shove.
Of course I practice purdah – no strange man may see my face;
I do not leave the house without a yard or more of lace.
I pity the barbarians who lack such fine traditions
And have to live with infamy in ungodly conditions.
I’m proud to live my life at home behind a burlap screen,
And have a happy marriage now that I have turned fourteen.
