So comes the day when we find newspapers filled with stories of some successful and some not so successful women. We acknowledge them who rose from ashes, shone brilliantly and whose traces will always be seen in the sky.
Do we miss someone here???
It’s been ages talking about liberation, empowerment, equal rights, development but who cares to see the other side of the coin. Amidst all these glories, the fact will always remain that a woman is a woman. Even if she is called Sita or Mother Teresa she is expected to make sacrifices, she’s obligated to understand the unsaid words, hunger of child and regretful mood of spouse. These are the chores she carries out every day without any acknowledgment.
Can a woman ever be a man? Can she expect someone to understand the tears rolling down her eyes, or slight increase in temperature post a hectic day? Will she be understood without being lain an onus of putting extra pressure through a strictly laid out day.
There are days when eyes are swollen, limbs lame and mind in blues but still breakfast, lunch and dinner are served, home is spotless clean, people admire her for how she maintains her home, business and relatives. But there are days when she is questioned, reason for her existence, decisions she made in past, and what does she foresees as her future.
An identity with which I lived for years is at stake, now I don’t know who I am, what I did and what more is expected from me. But yes I would join voices to recognize the day which is celebrated in my honor. I, the woman, would lie on back with the burden on my shoulders, pride on chest and would still smile, when I rest…