Always a Mystery

A beautiful blend of emotions, colors, strength and patience: a woman. Every time I look at one I stay there marveled, each of them so vividly different. When the time and space were defined and this world took its first steps there was a woman. To accompany her better half in everything. To fill the gaps that he couldn't, to feel what he didn't, in depth. Being one of them I fully get what it is to be a woman, but sometimes a feeling dawns in me that this beautiful part of world’s creation is meant for many more things. A greater role to play in this abundant, and sadistic drama called life. Something out of the normal but still something that we ought to do.

Dating to the days when feathers were dipped in ink, to this day of ball pens whenever a writer pins down thoughts and emotions into paper and takes the marvelous voyage of words they often choose to describe this one part of the world: the feminine part. The voluptuous curves, silky skin, the blinding curls of her hair, tender lips and all that makes her belong to the world of women. The words never cease, poems, prose, novels and stories. Innumerable number of them has been written for her. Still I feel that she is beyond the reach of any word. Employ all the language you want still none will be able to capture her in it, simply the creation was so intense that even the creator fails miserably in explaining what she really is.

A rich ore of patience, the lush source of love, the wrathful form of anger all sums up in a woman.

When I adorn my eyes with kohl, slip colourful bangles into my wrists, stick a bindi in between my brows and make my way out to brush into the world…how I adore being a girl. Well adorned, beautiful and confident. Visible to everyone but always behind a veil, incomprehensible and mysterious beyond words.

This form of life; calls for admiration. A feminist people may choose to call me as they did to many others who preceded me in loving what they were, I completely do not mind because it is who I am, and feel my chest puffed up to say it out loud. From the wide range of choice in clothes to the feeling of motherhood, there are things that only belong to us. It was during one of my bathroom conversations that I met a part in me that I hadn't seen yet. The part that made me so happy to take the most complex form of nature.

The tenderness with which she is born, ignorance with which she grows up and the proud day when she can call herself a woman. She feels things to the depth that no one can. Tender, delicate and strong above all. Each of them has a different story to tell. Stories that may catch our attention, make us wince, cry or sometimes make us lend a shoulder to her. When she smiles, she does it for all the people around her. Don’t mistake her to be happy always, because it might just be for you. She hides the tears perfectly behind those lined eyes, and makes you feel like she has never tasted even a bit of sadness.

It is simply so easy to say that you understand her, but no one does except herself. The pain she endures, the sadness she carries along and the compassion she shows all belongs exclusively to her skills. No one is to question her excellency in it. The happiness with which she nurtures her dreams only to be dashed one day, the pen in her hands fears the world crushing it, her voice afraid to go unheard and her existence always at the verge of ignorance.

As I look out of my window I see many such people…who has dreams yet to be unleashed, words yet to be spoken and feelings yet to be confessed.

In this cage of a life,

A sadistic rehearsed drama,

The stings are pulled and I dance

The pain felt each time

Splendid solitude and spaces unfilled

My voice longs to be heard

In a silent hushed tone I speak

For only I must hear it no one else

Shhh… I let my spirits fly

Away from this burning cage

It leaves and reaches horizons I never can

Kisses the fresh air, flies high above

And learns to live once again….

Shhh…don’t you speak of it to anyone

For I fear everything that’s around me….even you