Women Missing From History
Women Missing From History3 mins 178 3 mins 178
I am a mediocre writer and an ordinary poet,
In search of places, where I can feel and be felt.
Call me by any name, you want
Or label me with any colour, you have,
I am a white canvas and
Will absorb all the colours and
Make shapes out of them on me.
For I have learnt all how to use words,
How to paint pictures,
How to hold the brush and
How to be unafraid of labels.
I learnt them from my mother,
My grandmothers, my teachers and all women,
I have brushed my soul past with.
So that I can pass them on to the generations to come,
I have dipped my genes in their courage,
Spirit and everything that makes them what they are.
I didn't know big fat words like,
Entrepreneurship and business personalities,
When I saw my grandmother grew vegetables
In the garden and sold them in the market,
Because she strictly refused to take money,
From my father until she could work.
I didn't know terms like management and accountancy,
When I visited my grandmother's group of women,
Working and supporting each other in getting,
Their daughter's married and becoming financially responsible.
I didn't know what dedication and sacrifices stood for,
When my hostel warden would cry every time,
Her little sons would leave after vacations to their father's place.
I wouldn't measure honesty and courage,
When my best friend picked her boyfriend,
And faced everyone including her family,
When they protested for him being lower caste.
They tried to tear them apart but she was adhered by love.
I still do not understand responsibilities and their weight,
Even though I have seen an 8 years old,
Knocking at my doors one night in search of work,
To feed her younger siblings.
I wouldn't know what dreams are capable of,
Until I saw my cousin fought for it,
Against her family and didn't stop until she earned it.
I wouldn't know what power of beauty and positivity,
Feels like had I not met that acid attack survivor,
Who is an influencer now.
I wouldn't know what faith is,
Had I not met that domestic violence survivor,
Whose daughter was kidnapped,
And her faith on law brought them together.
I hadn't understood the pain,
Until I saw the Marty's mother,
Mumbling her conversation with her son in sleep.
I have read about determination,
But seen in the eyes of war refugee women,
Who are trying to bring up their daughters and sons safely.
I have learnt the art of binding people together from my boss,
Who stands with us, laugh with us,
Yells at us yet always tries to keep us knit together.
I have learnt the skills of hardworking from my sister,
Who has never let her broken heart reach to her brains,
And stop her from being the topper in university.
I have seen the face of dignity in my friend's face,
Who walked out of her marriage,
Because she was not ready to pay for getting married.
There are millions of women like them,
And million different from them but each hold,
A thread of their lives and let their stories fly high like kites.
Everyone is fighting their own battles with themselves and with the world,
Some do it silently behind closed doors and some do it out in the open.
Some succeed and some fall on their faces but that's the story, isn't it?
You are not judged by your victory or misery,
But by your story while on the journey.
Let's come together and help each other to etch new histories.
We are women and I have read less about women in history.