The impending need for Gender Equality.

I was scrolling through a few of the #MeToo posts on my timeline, when,

I thought I’d bring a few questions clawing my mind, to the society’s attention –
Why do you throw the girl child to the ants, why are you so pained by her presence,

When would you understand that SHE, is the reason for your very existence?
Why does her attire become the reason for your prejudice,

When her very being is always subjected to insurmountable injustice?
Why does it irk your ego if she wants move higher up the ladder, why do you expect her to compromise?

Why should she always be the one to sacrifice?

Wouldn’t her hard-work, her commitment, her passion for her work, just suffice?
Why do you advocate to her something, what you wouldn’t for yourself, find appropriate?

Why, despite being born an equal, do you expect her to be servile, to be the subordinate?
Why, when both are to blame, is she alone forced to mend her ways, is asked for a character certificate?

Why, what she brings with her, always seems to the world, a tad too inadequate? 
Why is there still, such deep rooted misogyny and patriarchy, why is there no space for gender equality?
Why don’t we understand it’s #HeForShe, and that’s exactly how the world is designed to be?!
Cheers!

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She

Be it at 9 in the night or 6 in the morning, she is required to quicken her pace,

She lives with worry lines that crease her forehead, with fear that clouts her face,

She isn’t allowed night outs, parties for her are a big no-no,
She is expected to sacrifice, to forgo, to let go of her ego,

She doesn’t get to stay alone, she doesn’t get to make her own choices,
Her silence, most often than not, gets overpowered, by raised voices,

She is judged for what she chooses to wear,
She’s judged for her joy, for her passion, for her pride, for her despair,

She is judged for who she chooses to be ,
She’s judged for everything she says or does- whether she’s six, or sixty,

Everytime she steps out, she steps out with an extra layer of caution,

For, there’s no place on this earth that she can call her home, her safe haven,

But hey! She is born an equal, she ain’t here to shoulder his blame, she ain’t here for him to maim,
This world she lives in, is hers too, to belong in, is hers too, to claim,

She should breathe in peace, not in panic, not in pain,

Together, it’s time we make this place safe for her, again!

Let’s fly high, my friend

Let not the society pull the strings of our lives, of our destinies,

Let not our race, religion, caste or creed decide who we are, or define our indefinable capacities,

Let not opinions biased, tarnish our hopes, our ability to try,

Let not doubts unascertained, limit our will to fly,

Let not stopgaps and pitfalls deter what we choose to pursue

Let nothing stop us from living our dreams, from becoming what we aspire to.

Cheers!

Indian Roads

There are potholes splayed open, there’s dung of animals splattered across, there’s garbage spewed in abundance, in every micron of space you find,
There are barricades drawn on every side, troughs ploughed out for projects that have been left far behind,
There are sidewalks (detours now, to motorists in traffic) that don’t have space anymore for pedestrians to walk,
There are share-autos drivers who find every traffic signal imperative to balk,
Phew! You really don’t have a choice, do you, but to watch your step as you go,
Because, with the Indian roads, clearly, you just never know!

Choices 💖

To her, freedom didn’t mean the right to raise her voice,

It didn’t mean the privilege to wear her choice,

It didn’t mean traveling around the world – living in, its every corner and nook, 
All it only ever meant, was snuggling in, to her book –
For, it gave her what the rest of the world couldn’t – it brought her alive, it set her imagination on fire,

It gave her heart all the contentment it would ever desire,
By the window sill she sits, undisturbed, unscathed,

From the rest of the world, willingly detached,

Breathing in its scent, its story, 

Relishing every plot it cooks, to glory.

It lingers forever…

Real fragrance is that which stays forever,

Not that which withers when beauty wilts over!

Irony

Yesterday evening, when I waited for my bus, at the bus stand,

I saw a lady walk to the litter bin nearby, with a lunch box in her hand,
She emptied its contents into a clear polythene bag, and threw it into the bin,

Where it lay, among the trash, tucked in.

Then, a few moments after, a rag picker stopped by,
He began to fish earnestly for food in the bin, when this bag caught his eye –

He happily tore it open, and bit by bit,

He finished every last morsel in it.

Talk about irony – on the one hand there’s everything in plenty, there’s abundance,
While on the other, even the left overs make a huge difference.