Faces light up to hear a cry of a new born;
A welcome cheer dissipates with the news of a baby gal,
A second labour pain for the mother starts.
The gleaming babe unawares the thorn eddying in air;
‘ye are a gal’, voices caution at each step,
Escorts her till their last breath.
No thrill in life she cries her heart out;
Nor the walls echo her sobbing tales,
The inner embers struggle to find an identity.
A relief sought to breathe a fresh air in job;
A hard reality strikes with the ogling male,
Trying to paw at; sms-ing double entenders.
Emancipation of women, a placard laughs at a rally;
Waiting in wings under the shade of a nubile nude poster,
‘Getting hitched’, would be ideal, the mom says.
A forced dreams push down to the Prince charm;
It’s too late to settle; her anxiety grows,
Will the rose never wither in a gale?
The closed windows open with a thud;
Bumpy ride is ahead, be prepared, they say,
In a kitschy world, her Kismet is
To fight against odds in every stage.
Crazy wimps gawk at the svelte figure;
‘World is your oyster’, quips to brainwash,
Encomiums heaped upon her acts,
Paeons paid to worm his way into heart.
‘Smile and smile and be a villain’,
Shakespeare’s words entrench so deep in heart;
‘Am I a fool’, a simmering rage takes no exit point,
‘Docile’ no more, a voice whispers within.
Ye ‘r not a jewel for sale, cautions louder;
Each has a role to play on the stage,
Ye fall no prey to the vile eyes, waiting to mint.
No more ‘weaker sex’ ye ‘r hereafter,
More Power to your shoulders to march ahead,
To stamp out vice-like grip of Mammonism,
‘Arise, Awake and Stop not’, till ye ‘be free.
A wake-up call takes me back to the ugly reality.