Woman

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She dresses up NOT for the gazes of those hawk-eyed lads, 
Who hang around aimlessy on the roadside stands.
Her sanctity does not hang on the hem of her skirt; 
The purity of her soul ain’t defined by the length of her shirt.
Yes she is beautiful, yes she is sassy
But she isn’t an erotic sex toy to be spread on ur bed on a night so hazy.
She is the goddess who is worshipped in sacred shrines
And abused and debased and subjected to shamelessly heinous crimes.
She is a fine blend of lyrical poetry and artistic mystery;
But not a vague masterpiece, to be hung on your body’s tapestry.

Thousand broken bits of shimmering broken glass,
Bound together by chains of restrictions in the societal flask.
The masterwork of the Creator’s divine fingers;
The reflection of bliss, the sip of heavenly mists..
An alloy ofseveral imperfections,
Made par excellence with every inch of her amorphous existence!
She is the moon who stands lone in the starry dark night,
All unafraid and shining as the dewy morning sunlight.
She doesn’t need a man to tell her she’s lovely; 
She herself loves the beauty she is- every inch and every ounce of her soul her body.
Her femininity is neither her weakness to be protected, nor her treasure to be guarded, 
It is her strength.. her power, which makes her what she is.

You push her on her knees a 100 times,
but the 101th she’ll get up..and move unstoppingly forward!
She requires neither your hollow pity,
Nor your petty sympathy.
She is stronger than she seems,
And braver than u dare to perceive.
A girl, a wife, 
A mother, a sister..
The giver, the goddess…
Yes guys, you are right;
She ain’t equivalent to you
Truly because, she is much much above you..
The one to look up to, the one to worship to!


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About the Poet:
Rashmi Chakravarty (Lady Shri Ram College for Women)

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