The brush of the morning wind, provokes a sense of cuddly feelings that prompt me to lie longer in bed with the celebrations of the Holi festivities. It gives me a breather; to play around the clock and break away from the rigors of routine. While ‘a stitch in time saves nine’, I would like to believe that a stretch of time, saved me the grouse of body aches and nudged in me a sprightly enthusiasm to rest awhile my busy body and activate my grey cells.
I quickly make a to-do list to save me from the scourge of lamentation. Prioritising my umpteen enterprising initiatives is a juggle of sorts. While women were always meant to showcase an enticing platter of culinary skills, household chores, childbearing and rearing abilities with equal ease, it has indeed evolved with the passage of time with the males contributing their share and unequivocally enabling the women to foray their intellectual capacity with much relief and support upfront in line with their male counterparts in the guise of siblings, spouse, colleagues etc.
Growing up for me, couldn’t have been much easier to narrate, than it has been now; given within the framework of undertaking the chores with parity with a younger male sibling in tow. My acts of tomfoolery had to be scheduled hushly. Any room for error would invite the wrath of my mother, whose temper could be likened to a scalding pan that has been overworked with the grind of mundane duties ever more after the demise of my father.
My discreet childhood misadventures had to incur the beating stick which I opine was pretty effective than the sage warnings and teachings that were handed down from the elders. I recall detesting the nuances that in a way fine tune and groom every child to embrace the vicissitudes of life. I learnt it my way and the experience has been exhilarating. But my brother does take a jibe at me in showcasing the scars that have been ingrained by our petty embattlements while we thoroughly reminisce every bit of from those childhood days. I justified by stand to him that I did certainly have to conjure up some vile acts for keepsake.
Growing up, we do well in acclimatising ourselves to the pressures and expectations. As if to think, women are so naturally pliable is not an inherent trait. It takes tremendous effort before she can stumble off a few blocks and eloquently gather herself in manifesting the sundry roles that she plays out in real time.
I wish to express an appreciative note that’s written in verse to every man and woman that beholds the goodness of women and has strived to regard her in esteem.
Through the toil of the impending day
She must labour with copious love.
Fending off the jarring and lewd gaze
Threading cautiously through the maze.
Her upbringing may have been
Dealt with utter neglect and trauma.
The severe blows that scarred her inner being
She stifles them as if they mean nothing.
She may not assert her worth and dignity
But silently her actions are marked.
And as for her hidden talents and skills
They are assailed against her own will.
Her companions are very much her ‘failures’
Emboldening her to learn from them therein.
For in the passing, men will starkly remark
For the precarious road that she’s embarked.
