Society or Women?

 

SORRY, NOT SORRY

part 1

Society or Women?

I often get asked why I am vulnerable to the fact that I am an Indian. I am particularly not. India is a spectacular country, having a rich past. But is the future similarly rich? Is India a haven for the new and open-minded generation?

I’m proud to be an Indian, but am I proud of India?

I recently came across a post about how Indian women have been degraded over the ages. How they are not well-equipped with their emotions and only allowed to like Pink. Labelling them to house-hold chores because it’s impossible for a woman to earn more than her husband. Isn’t it? The family will be looked down upon if the man is the house-husband and the woman wears the pants in the family.

Why do Indian girls have to wear a skirt to school and not trousers? Is it a rule? Or is it out of pure sexism? An Indian girl is taught to dress ‘properly’ as the society is not a ‘good place’. What makes the society an undesirable place to live? Is it the people? Or is it the mindset?

No matter how financially-stable she is, she will always need a man to protect her. A man to stand up for her and look after her. That is Indian society. Am I still expected to be proud of it?

Although, is society our enemy? The truth is that women themselves are the real antagonists. Struggling to fight their inner demons. Stop pitying yourself and start accepting who you are. Stop criticizing yourself, start being an example for others to learn from.

Society will never let you live with your head held up high, the moment you start listening to it, you get trampled and never be able to dust it off. Shun it out and do what you feel is right, even if it seems wrong.

Stop changing yourself to play the princess in another man’s story, be the queen you are in yours.

#sorrynotsorry

 

The Boxes

 His family had a huge wooden cottage in the middle of the WhiteOak Forest. It was a well-built winter cabin with chestnut ceilings and steep staircases. The family had settled amidst the city and barely visited the cabin. Ignoring it out of simple nonchalance; they still claimed it to be their family’s most ‘well-kept secret’, for it had a dark attic with mysterious cardboard boxes.

The entire cottage, made out of chestnut wood was disturbed by one metal door guarding the attic. Guarding the boxes. The only window was bolted shut and often covered with heavy shades. The family had hired help to polish the cottage once in a while. The help had access to every corner of the house except the attic. It was off-limits. The attic remained grimey and grim while the other rooms were spick-and-span. 

It was once rumored that the cottage was built over a graveyard and consisted of a catacomb which was later, renovated into a ‘basement’.

The hired help would reside in the cabin the entire day but had to leave as soon as the clock struck 6. The attic was supported by a faint light bulb, lit daily at 6:30pm and turned off next dawn by someone. Nobody knew who that ‘someone’ was. 

The local people tried to solve the mystery, but saw no one entering or leaving the cabin after 6. But one night, they saw a yellow light reflecting from the half-draped window. An aged man was spotted, lifting the boxes on a mahogany table and carefully bringing out items and judging them under the weak bulb. 

The man understood how his identity was sacrificed. A wooden case was nailed to the window the next day. 

A young chap; took it upon himself to find out the hidden ‘artifacts’ in the boxes. He impersonated a member of the hired help and was admitted in. He remained in the cabin, lurking in the shadows, only to wait and see the aged man opening the boxes. 

It was 6:45pm and a man arrived, not through the front door, but via a passage in the basement. The young boy heard him treading heavily on the cemented stairs that led up to the attic. A metallic handle rattled. The boy had his way in, but did not follow the man inside the attic, being too afraid to get caught. Instead of gaping at the man, the boy stared at the inside of the attic. It was a mess. Test tubes, flasks, chemicals and books were scattered across the room. He waited until the boxes were opened. The man, who seemed to be a professor of science, walked slowly across the room, carrying his pocket knife to scrape open some taped boxes. 

What the boy saw, gave him the shivers. Various human organs were packed in ice coupled with several DNA samples. 

After a decade, the case was disclosed that the cabin was owned by the professor, he had no family. It was all rumors. His family had died long before the cottage was built. He had preserved their organs, only for a colossal idea of his own.

That day, the headlines of esteemed newspapers read-‘Clones Made in the Attic.’ 

 

Sometimes,

 

Sometimes, I like to imagine,

 A dainty green valley with a clear stream and I'm the only one living there. 

Sometimes, I don't want my phone, 

I want a pleasant view of the hills in front of me, reading a book. 

Sometimes, I imagine,

Floating in a lake all by myself, simply looking at the sky.

Sometimes, I feel like

Shunning this world out. 

Do I get my 'sometimes'?

HAPPINESS IS A SKILL

 

HAPPINESS IS A SKILL

Every day keeps repeating itself.                                                                                                          Everyday is the same day, for you are running in a circle.                                                      Every night, all you hope for is a better morning. Every day is full of uncertainties. Nothing is planned, anything might fall upon you. Just like a frail hatchling, it seems like you are learning something new every day. The moment you get adjusted to that, a new challenge awaits you.

It gets depressing how everything seems like something already done before. A series of déjà-vus’ float in front of you. It feels like you are trapped inside an hourglass, every second you are buried under more and more sand. And it is soon before you catch your last breath. Truth is, nobody knows when life will take a turn, nobody knows if it will.

Hence,

Enjoy every day for you never know when you laugh for the last time. Do whatever pleases you even if it does not satisfy society. Life is too short to be thinking about others think, and the current situation makes it even shorter.                                                          

Choose something that makes you happy, do it, just go for it. The world is your oyster; the sky is your limit. Nothing is stopping you except your pessimistic inner thoughts. Shun them out. The most difficult job that exists, is ‘keeping oneself happy’. It is the highest paid job there is.

Once you master it, there is nothing stopping you.

Make Way For The Night

 Make Way For The Night

As the sun sets behind the hills,

The spasms of red and orange make way for the blue and black.

The creatures of dawn go into hiding;

Making way for the night’s pack.

 

Leaving the horizon, taking all the warmth away,

Letting the Moon to glimmer and glow;

And letting the stars to dazzle and dance,

The breeze from the East serenely blows.

 

Scattering its faint light on the plains so green,

Shimmering over the dainty sea now and then,

Guiding those, who need her light.

And before they know it, its morning again.