I AM A WOMAN...

You may throw me on the ground
You may wish I never come around
You may trample my dreams
You may shatter my hopes
All you can do is harm the 'me' that you see...

Inside of me is the real 'me'
How much ever you hurt me
Making life a living hell
I can always wake up and tell
I AM A WOMAN...

I have seen more thorns
I have felt sharpest pains
I have seen my world ripping apart
I have come up from the start
I AM A WOMAN...

Cocooned inside the shell you see is 'me'
Stronger than the mighty sea
How much ever the storms threaten
I can always rebuild 'me'
I will stand mightier than you men,
I AM A WOMAN...

To the woman in the mirror!

Long lacquered nails are tapping on the table. I look at them and turn green with envy. One look at my chipped and shapeless nails, the beauty queen at the counter smirks with distaste. Will she ever know that once I had twenty bottles of nail-polish tucked away in my fridge? Will she know how methodically every week I removed the polish and repainted the nails with glee? What happens to a married woman post marriage? 

The life of every average Indian woman can be divided into two segments- Before Marriage and After Marriage. The life in BM stage is all rosy and dreamy. It is exams, dresses, latest fashion, ice-creams, teddies and cards. It is all fun and frolic with new dresses every now and then. Kolhapuris to match the lucknowi chikan work cottons, starched Bengal cotton sarees paired with matching jewel sets and an array of slippers, shoes and floaters neatly arranged under the cots. Not to forget the huge teddy that sleeps on top of the lovely lady.

The pinnacle of such glorious womanhood is reached on the days immediately following the Marriage. Shaadi- one word that can turn a kitchen mouse to Cinderella. The boxes of silk sarees, the matching designer blouses, the silver anklets, jhumkas, yards of jasmine and vials of Chanel...ah! Reminds me of a glorious era in life. And just when you think life is a bed of roses, comes the shocker- " Maa! Aaap Maa bannewaali hain!" 

Then starts the slide down the hill that you climbed with so much ease. You forget your lip stick and lip gloss the moment your strawberry gloss makes you throw up. Eye shadows go out the window, your eyes replaced by sleepless nights. No make up. No jewelry- imagine having to wear twenty sovereigns of gold in your neck when your extra ten kilos- laden tummy pulls you forward. Wave your stilettos a farewell, you are not going to need them again in life. Forget your Bengal cottons, you are neither getting the time to starch them nor iron them. 

Forget your dangling earrings, the little angel likes to hang on to it. You can find your face adorned by tiny scratches. Your cheeks become dough, thanks to the frequent pinching by your little one. Long tresses...you forsake them, for you won't have the time handling a toddler and all the combing, shampooing, oiling and pampering the black silk.

Nails? Sssshhhh...don't ever think of them. You might accidentally scratch the soft skin of the baby. Nail polish...do you have the time, really? The perfume is replaced by pungent nappies. All you can smell over you is food left overs deposited by the little one on you or the citrus fragrance of wet wipes. Your kurtas carry the fragrance of mother's milk, complete with the tell tale patches. You try to be your old self only when the toddler starts his pre- school and by that time, one look in the mirror, you will be horrified at the middle aged XL sized woman staring back at you. 

This is that phase of AM that most women give up. Simply give up, because they feel beauty lies in the heart. Every babble of the baby is a compliment to that wonderful feeling called motherhood. Life has become all sharing and caring for the loved ones. Somewhere in this phase, most women feel contentment. Life is only caring for others- the husband, the children. Seldom do they realise, it is their life after all. Looking beautiful is a boon, grooming oneself is an art. 

Women forget the grooming part when weighed down by homework and odd chores. Not everyone enjoys the trivial pleasures of long facials, manicures and pedicures. Not everyone makes it a point to still line up slippers matching the dresses. Not everyone wants to keep updated with the latest in fashion. Yet, thankfully, these days, the tribe of well-dressed and well-groomed middle aged women is growing. 

40s might bring in spectacles. 40s might ring in strict diet regimen. 40s might bring out the dark circles around your eyes. But nothing can outshine the radiance from within. The beauty of living a life for others. The joy of giving plenty of love. The happiness in being 'mommied' all around the place. Still, finding little time for painting the nails, acquiring matching jhumkas for that red mysore silk saree, pairing Jodhpuris with cool cottons, changing your ray- ban aviators once in a while, dressing up complete with lipstick and blow dried, ironed hair for a wedding...all these perks do come attached with having an eye for being presentable. 

Dressing up is the right of a woman, BM or AM. Why should a woman lose the pleasure of dressing beautifully just because her son is in high school? Wearing a jean and sporting a short kurta on a train travel cannot be such a crime! Leaving a lipstick smudge on a coffee cup in cafe day cannot be a sin. Painting your nails black and blue cannot be termed 'wild'. Add spice to the beauty within by accessorizing it with the right make up and hairstyle. Nearing 40 doesn't mean that one has to look akin to a strict convent teacher! Life can be fun AM, provided women understand the need to look beautiful not for other's eyes...just for themselves. After all...it is our lives!

A Wo(e)men's Day Wish!

The shrill whistle of the milk boiler

Incessant chopping of vegetables

All three burners busy-

The next to whistle is the rice cooker

Washing machine whizzing away

Overshoots it the husband's snore.

Sweeping the floor

Hurried mopping and dusting

Waking the sleepy kids,

Including the man of the house

Remembering the geyser

Hasty rangoli at the door

Pushing and pulling dressers,

Paste on the brush

Off goes the washing machine-ding

Hanging the clothes

Hot coffee for the newspaper wielder

Bathing the kids- dripping with soap

Eau de cologne under the cot

Talc in the closet

Four sets of lunch boxes

Sitting on the table neatly packed

Hurried breakfast fed

Running all around the sofas

Bongs the school bus

Away the kids go bye-bye

Breakfast to the husband 

Search on for his left sock

Short peck on cheek

Off he goes to office...

Half bathed half clad

Breakfast lying half eaten

Plaiting hair in the doorstep

Locking the door

Forgetting the mobile

Starting the bike, off i go

Caught in the traffic

Breathing the smoke

The clock strikes ten

As I thunder in

Sneering jeering ogling

I move past with a smile

Files move in and out

Time flies, i note nothing

Lunch boxes open up

Yesterday's soaps discussed

Fashionistas cussed

I munch on with distaste

A short call from the husband

Lights up the face

"Honey...did you see the red file?"

"Its in your bike box"...click!

Again it is files and ogles

Gossips and smirks

Typing away like mad

My mind rests on the lone kids

Did they have the biscuits?

Have they locked the door safe?

Ten more files to be read

Two more mails to be sent

Ride back home is faster

Beats my heart harder

Kids at home with Dora

I lunge past the signals swifter

Opening the door 

All I find are clothes strewn

Plates lying everywhere

Water flowing out of the bathrooms

Cleaning, mopping, coffee

Homework, yelling

Mighty head ache, heartless dinner

Doing the dishes I am half-dead

Comes the husband back home

Too tired to talk hello

Wait, did I have my dinner?

Seldom do I remember

Cinderella and Rapunzel

Wait for their Princes 

As I read out bedtime stories

Kissing the kids good night

As I walk back to my room

My Prince is in deep slumber

When the flickering TV says "Happy Women's Day"

All I do is gently snore!

Dedicated to all the working women out there...

p.s.: The hand made card you see above was presented by my Little Angel Leina, aged 8. Angels are not in Heaven. They make life on earth, Heaven! Life is beautiful with a girl child :)

p.p.s.: Heart felt thanks to the men in my life- It is a pleasure to be surrounded by angelic men- the husband L, my Dad, my brothers, my son, my cousin brothers, my best friends who are all men ;) ( That includes you Prasanna & Gowtham) 

p.p.p.s.: The sun is scorching down South, it has got nothing to do with this post or my cerebellum ;)