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Woe-MEN

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Women should rather get start being called WOE-MEN. Because they’re no less than a suffering to Men all around for no reason. I wonder why it’s so, what heinous sins have they committed, how did they do this? These are some of the 64 thousand dollar questions which unfortunately won’t get answered till the ends of the Universe.

Just Wondering, How do WOE-MEN hurt Men? Maybe it is their Breath that makes the air poisonous for other dogmatic Males to breathe. Or maybe it’s the cacophony they make all the time while all the busy Male-Bees are working which makes them go crazy. Maybe it’s the sluggishness, their indolence which makes the aura ill. Or May be it’s their selflessness, I feel it must be really hard to be around such extraterrestrials. Not just that, Woe-Men are all the time in a mood to try their ways to woo Men, who by the way are very Realistic & Unromantic.
WOE-MEN

The Possessiveness of Women for their Bodies, Hair, Dresses are all a sign of their pretentiousness, even the hormones—Estrogen & Progesterone that happen to bother women and cause mood swings are their fault as well.

The Looks so charming, the Touch so healing, the Heart so warm is all a lie, that maddens them to their core.

No wonder WOE-MEN will be a pain in the neck as long as they take ‘Women Empowerment’, ‘Gender Inequality’ for granted. These words have richer meaning to what is usually interpreted. They’ve a deeper connotation which had never been given the right weight it deserved.

No one else than amongst us can come up & say-“Whatever happened was find, let’s forget that & walk towards the brighter side of the tunnel.” The Dark tunnel can’t be crossed by one or two or even a hundred, but only all together can do it. When they accept nothing but the true Social, Legal, Educational, Political, & most of all INDIVIDUAL EMPOWERMENT. When they’ll understand how valuable, privileged they are to be born in this gender. When they respect and equally get it back, when their opinions and decisions are welcomed, admired and considered without any prejudice.

That’ll be in a true sense- “Women Empowerment.” Period.

 

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A Decision

pexels-photo-325520.jpegA decision can adversely affect your life. I’m having the side-effects truly. My physics class is happening, for my least interest. Having tried all ways to understand physics, now I just want to raise my hand to give up. Giving up is no wrong, sometimes it’s for good, because the truth is we all are no Einstein’s or Newton’s. We can be great personality in arts or maybe we could definitely do something in management or be it anything a musician or an actor or a scientist or a teacher or just a clerk. It doesn’t matter what as long as we can choose to be good at it. The job least matters; what matters most is happiness. Are you making most of it, are you enjoying your work, are you happy doing your job or regretting your job, your life?

The decision that effed your life; It’s not about who made the decision, you or someone else. A bad decision is just bad and the consequences are even worse. The regretful decisions in our life’s are mostly made by someone else. You can’t blame them too because they are your loved ones or maybe above you. But such things just scar the relation forever.

Sometimes I want to cry so bad, but I can’t even cry. I have gone emotionally numb. I have become a stone. But touch my heart, touch my soul, you’ll feel how bad n loud it’s crying. It’s really hurting.

“Regrets comes in all shapes and sizes. Some regrets for doing the wrong thing, some regret for making the wrong choices but the biggest regrets in life are for not being able to do something, for not getting a chance to walk even few steps to the road of your passion—something that you loved doing, could do for hours without any reward, money.

I know, not everybody who follow their passion get success, but the few steps are the success in itself, the journey makes it just worth it. These few steps give you what the million dollars won’t be able to give you. It keeps you alive. It gives you a reason to work on every morning and a chance to thank god for blessing you with an attempt to do the thing you felt strongly for.

People should always be asked— “what you wish to do rather than what you aim to do?”. As to what I see and feel, there’s a subtle difference and strangely even the person is unable to figure that out until he’s wasted some years trying to find a satisfaction in his aim while he left his passion considering it was just a hobby.

Suppose, a person wants to sing or dance maybe, it doesn’t matter if he’s an expert or sloppy. It’s just simple—he wants to do it, he likes it. But he aims to be an engineer or say doctor. our aims in life are often a result of some influence but our vocations are true. So ask yourself is it my passion, can I do it for the rest of my life, if I have enough money would I just do it?

Once in a life, they must be given a chance to do what they want to do. I know I’d never be able to do what I wished to do, and now I wish every morning, for a chance to try that later in my life.

Decisions are the inevitable part of life. they are like ‘The road not taken’, tough but you’ve got to take them anyway, without any judgment just follow your heart.

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My modesty is my pride…

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My modesty is my Pride. I am not a modest I choose to be one. I choose to be proud at me in silence than exaggerating or publicizing myself in front of everybody.

My silence is my dignity, my pride. Because I’d be judged if I speak, I’d be judged if I don’t. So I’d let my silence be the reason of your judgment and your judgments be the reason of my silence and an insight of you to me.

 

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What’s her Identity?

Isunday don’t believe in truth anymore; I believe everything is relative.  Nothing is absolute and perfect as the ‘change’ itself.

My next words are not an article, essay or a letter but a set of questions. I spend my day enjoying the moments but my nights are mostly spent sleepless. I’m nothing but an entangled human.

I’m confused between myself and my nature, my behavior and my identity. Yes, they’re all very different and they’ve put me in an abysmal confusion.

I’m at a point where I can decide what to eat, cook, buy, where to go, whom to befriend, what to say, all the things a normal person does. But the thing I can’t make heads or tails about is my own-self.

I’m someone’s Daughter—
Obedient, stubborn, innocent, lovable

I’m someone’s Sister—
Younger, naive, responsible

I’m someone’s Wife—
Compassionate, selfless, devoted

I’m someone’s Mother—
Affectionate, forgiving, teacher

I’m someone’s Friend—
Understanding, humorous, trustworthy

I’m someone’s relative, someone’s employee, someone’s colleague—
Agreeable, professional, cordial.

But all these are just the roles that I play each day. I behave well with all, kith and kin, acquaintances and even strangers. That’s my nature and my behavior. But sometimes I want to shout out loud, make my points, express my desires but the etiquettes get in the way of my nature all the time. My nature is to flow; the etiquettes are the hindrance.

And then after the role-playing each day, I’m the one who’s perplexed each night. “What’s my true identity”—This question never leaves my mind.

But What’s my true identity? Is it when I’m happy or when I’m sad, is it when I’m angry or when I’m mad, is it when I’m in love with my family or agitated by them, running for some solo time just to be calm. Is it when I’m with my husband making love to him, or with my children, is it when I’m spending time with my mother, fighting with my siblings, or chatting with my colleagues? Is it what I show or what I hide? Is it a Book no one cares to read but all love to display?

Who am I? Is it my identity or my nature or just a name of a relationship I am tied in?

Is my Identity connected with my body or a bare truth of my soul?

 

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You’re right Women have all the Choice

pexels-photo-210585You were right when you said Women has all the liberty today. She is given every opportunity as good as a man, given as importance as much as a man would get for the similar task. You were right when you said that Women can now decide for herself, her life. She is given Choices now.

I was looking at the options in her choices. There were a lot of options, choices given to her. “I agree; You’re right; My Husband shall take my decision; My Family knows my Answer; I can’t answer; I am not able to answer;” were some of the commonest options for every choice in her life.

Career, Clothes, Spouse, Kids; She’s asked not to worry when the matter is about taking decisions. She can do all the chores capably but at the matters of mind she’s still weak as per the norms. Somehow, even today, it’s the man who thinks he’s the capable gender.

When would the day come when each woman can decide without weighing her responsibilities at one hand, consequences of her decisions at the other. When she is not eyed when she makes a quirky choice for herself. When it’s very natural and common that she takes her own decision and not judged upon the details. Men, I think are going to play a vital role in this. It’s just a matter of a changed perspective. What if we do not see men as perpetrators but barristers of today’s women?

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Isn’t Love a Universe in its own?

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Do the galaxies, black holes really exist in space or are these imaginations of a hopeless lover? Maybe the universe is just a thought, the darkness and the shine a lie but a beautiful idea inspired from our living, our world is a universe in itself.

Everyone is like a planet; We all have our Moons but just one Sun. Our life, just like the planets, revolves around that one person who is our Sun, our reason of being. The Sun makes everything worth it.

The gravity of a Black hole is no way near the attraction of two lovers. Closing your eyes while them in your arm takes you to the darkest yet ‘Brightest’ galaxy. The galaxy that promises to keep one safe, far from any insecurity or vulnerability. The feeling of loving and being loved is so fulfilling, satisfying and calming.

The kind of attraction that can be seen in many juxtaposing forms. Sometimes, in the form of teenager’s first love- beautiful, rebellious, immature. The type that keeps them busy with each other all the time undistracted and unaffected by the world. Or Sometimes, an Adult’s Love- the Labyrinth love, that is fussy, clandestine, complicated yet a relaxing spa to the partners indeed. The love that enlivens the chaos-struck adults worried and burdened by their everyday lives.

Isn’t Love a Universe in its own?

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Her Bangles, a symbol of love or Colorful Handcuffs

qqbanglesBangles, colorful, tinted, with the magical tinkling sounds they produce. Who doesn’t love bangles? I know, almost we all do. How beautifully they adorn hands of a woman. Bangles are more than just an ornament in our culture. It’s a married woman’s pride, worn in her husband’s name. Husbands love the sounds, don’t they?

How romantic is the sight of a husband buying colorful bangles for his wife and adorning her hands by slipping the hues into her hands. Bangles are a sign of the love they share, the bond, the relationship they have nurtured.

But everything is transient, what if the wife loses her husband. She becomes a widow. Only a spouse knows how it feels to lose someone they’ve been living with for years, how it must feel to lose their addiction, their drug, their habit all at once. The Happy-Drug that was there for them every day ever since their matrimony, to listen to them, to help them in chores, to make love to them is forever gone. Every relationship is different but the degree of attachment is the same. They were attached to each other in everything. They couldn’t imagine their lives without the other and now one is alone. Only the Memories last. The loss is irreparable, unacceptable. The sympathetic family is there to try to condole her, shaken, they try their best to help her.

Losing someone physically is one thing, forgetting altogether is another!

The bangles that were the sign of her love, now a memory of her love are suddenly a bug in everybody’s eyes. The woman who’s too lost to even accept the damage is forced by the society to follow the norms made by them, norms that are too far from normalcy, totally inhumane, driven by blind believes, still existing without a single logic in them. The woman who hasn’t yet shed a tear in the grief, who is numb both physically and mentally. Rather than being given condolences and consoling, everybody eyes her colorful saree and the hues in her hands, and without a second thought break her bangles by forcefully grabbing her both hands and hit them together. BAM! *Bangles break*

It’s done to the woman who is still unconscious of what is happening around. Some broken pieces even pierce her hand and it bleeds. But few drops of blood can’t draw her attention when all her mind is focused on the want to have her husband back again.

Why did they do it? Could breaking her bangles make her forget her half-soul? Could it in anyway calm her? No, so why should they do it.

What if the woman doesn’t want to remove her colorful sarees and the bangles? And why should she want the otherwise? The sarees and the bangles are the last symbol of their memories. Yes, these little things have in them the part of their love’s soul, the things that were with them when they’re making memories in their lives, when they’re living together. The adorable Red Sarees that her husband gifted her and absolutely loved, and couldn’t keep her eyes off when she would wear them, the bangles in her hand, the tinkling of which always made him a little more in love with her than the last moment. How can she abandon them when they’ve in them her husband’s soul?

Also, she has been wearing them since their marriage, it has somehow become her identity. She wants to wear them. But after losing her spouse, everybody has their own thing to tell her, to shut her up, to impose something on her. They don’t allow her to wear anything colorful, and all her ornaments are snatched. The idea of love and relationship is not anywhere near to the concept that society is trying to indicate.

So only a married woman has the right to dress up, adorn beautiful sarees, bangles, and ornaments. Why can’t a widow still wear them when she wants to? So are these Bangles, a symbol of love or Colorful Handcuffs?

Yes, these are colorful handcuffs that help the society to classify a woman as sold or unsold property. The bangles that she wore thinking a symbol of her love were just in his name not their love. Because had they been a symbol of love, no one would force her to remove them after losing the spouse.

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Who’s a Bitch?

Who’s a Bitch?
Any women who has the liberty to take a decision,
Who can speak out for herself,
Who is opinionated,
Who can take a stand,
Who has the right to be with someone while hoping to find her Mr. Compatible Life partner,

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Who has goals & gives them priority over others,
Who has a broad-mind & likewise broad-minded friends irrespective of their sex or their sexual orientation or color etc.
Who has her Me-Time, who does not let anybody take that from her. It’s her power, she’s the queen of that world in those moments.
Be the #Bitch.

 

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My Inspiration to write was….

people-woman-hand-desk-6360My inspiration to write was that women in the Metro Coach, who was pondering too much. And, that guy who smiled at me in the hallway. Also, the boyfriend who kissed not just my lips but my soul. The girl who wanted to find her goals. The girl who was already a wanderer searching through her bits and pieces trying to find her hint of success. The old lady determined to create a company. Also, the Men, the proud misogynists, who pushed me to write for my gender. Especially, The Men who made me an un-Feministic Girl i.e. not just in favour of my gender but strongly against the biased women-haters. The Stereotypes that expected women to keep her eyes at the ground in front of her husband. The stranger who saw through my eyes. The stranger who asked my reason of existence in my commute to work one day.

My inspiration was in the love that defined happiness for me and in the love that wreck me. It was in the solitude when I was alone, locked up with books. It was in that book which inspired me to stand up for right and never settle. It was in the disappointments and the satisfactions. It was in the 10 kilometres trek to that beautiful hill that made me want to believe in god. It was in the clarity of thoughts and in the conundrum alike. It was in my want to love and be loved alike. It was in the birthday gift that I never got. It was in the friend that left me for no reason without caring to tell me. It was in the stubborn lover who could not accept that fact that I was leaving. It was in the crowd which made me wonder we all have a vivacious life.

My list of Inspiration does not end here. It has more subtleties than I can possibly talk of. And these inspirations have forced me to write something so meaningful that has an impact on someone else’s life. Something that fires their courage again to hit the wrong in its face, to take their life’s steering-wheel in their own hands. I want to write something powerful that urges someone to speak for them.