You have no idea, what it's like, to be a woman

You have no idea

What it's like, to be a woman

Every day is a baptism by fire

As she walks on the street

A hundred hands appear

From nowhere, as if conjured

By a deft flick

Of a magician's wand

A magician who sends chills

Down the length of her spine

Chills that surpass even those

On a wintry night in Antarctica

Leaving her frozen

Till every bone stands still

As she is stripped of her dignity

Reduced to a shadow of her self

She strains every sinew in her throat

As she sends out a distress signal

Which fails to be intercepted

As the people look on

Some with fear

Some with sheer indifference

Some with a perverse interest

But none answered the call of duty

The as basic call

As the need for oxygen

You have no idea

What it's like, to be a woman

As she heads home

Seeking much-needed solace

She is instead upbraided

For wearing a short skirt

For walking alone at night

For not being a lady

As she fails to get support

From the family she holds dear

As a shipwreck survivor

Barely floating in freezing waters

Clings on to that piece of wood

Her self-esteem nosedives

Like that fateful Air India flight

That crashed at Mangalore

And shifts the blame onto herself

For not understanding the men

Who's brought her to this state

And succumbs to Stockholm Syndrome

Completing a vicious circle

Leaving men and the patriarchy winners

Winners who deserve the title

As much as a student

Who clears his trimesters

Using bits of paper

Tucked neatly inside his shoes