‘Her’Story

A bundle of joy is born

With all the sorrows gone

From pretty pinks to radiant reds

Of frocks and skirts and lovely blouses

She is dressed in everything

She is treated as the little princess amongst all houses

The best of toys and dainty little things, she gets them all to play with

Invariably every little Indian girl child plays with a kitchen set

The reason behind this is a perennial quest

She plays with her peers and has no fear

She can sleep all she wants, not a soul in the family would even say a word

She needs good rest, so don’t be a pest, an older member would chide

She is sent to the best of schools in town, without a frown

Only so that  her standard of education is as high as the sky

She has more privileges than her male sibling

Does not know an inkling

About gender bias woes

She is watchfully monitored for all the marks she scores

And is never given any of the daily chores

Only so that she gets a job in her field of study

She could choose anything she wants so long as she is happy

Her dressing style is the style statement of her home without a hesitation

She has now transcended from frocks to gowns

Of chic kurthas and gorgeous saris

She is asked to try them all and becomes the style diva

She could befriend her male colleagues sans any restriction

Lest her parents know where she is off to and when she’d return

All the rest seems a safe haven to her

Until one day she is asked to tie the knot

Her head becomes hot

She’s told she’d rot

For she ought to tie the knot

She begins to think whatever happened to her career dreams

The world now does not hear her scream

With coaxing and cajoling she does tie the knot

Her kitchen set from childhood now comes to life

When she is another person’s wife

All this while she has only been nursing a career dream

And was told to study with her mind steady

It’s not all about money always, she does want a job only to carve a niche for herself

For sure she does not want to be dependant

And wants to sing songs of independence

She says, “So be it,” and gets going with her work

Whatever happened to all the intensive care

She now gets a stare

If she runs like a hare

To her workplace

Grades and Percentage were always products of comparison back in her days of education

Which earned her a great deal of dedication

For what joy? She now begins to whine

Only so that she cooks and thinks beyond her books

Of course she could work all she wants

Not a soul is going to haunt her

Lest she takes the pill of multi-tasking

She is expected to chill and work on uphill tasks

She is lashed for her nonchalance

And is asked to beware

Is told that her presentations at work would have no bearing

She needs to veer the steering

In the right direction

Else she is in for a strong rejection

She now has a little one

Again a bundle of happiness

And the cycle goes on...