You may try hard, as you want.
Tell me all the realities; our society.
But my wings are no more bound.
I care not about the cage…
I might as well be the change…
We are told that the ladies who are the easiest to look after are the most blessed.
The question remains, do we treat them as the blessings that they are said to be? Do we treat them as they should be?
Or do we, because of their low maintenance, just neglect their needs?
Because they do not make a fuss and create havoc every time their needs or wishes are not fulfilled, do we overlook their needs? The things that make them happy? The subtle forms of care and love that could overjoy them?
Do we forget doing the things we would for other people because they might just start throwing things in our face? And because these ladies make no such nuisances, do we just ignore them? Take them for granted?
Or for that matter, any person who does not explicitly counter our ways, or do not make extravagant demands, do we take all such people for granted?
Planning things, eating out, conversations, or anything for that matter, any plan, we never consider these “low maintenance, considerate” people.
Is this what someone’s consideration is worth? Is this how they should be treated?
Or are we waiting for them to snap and move away to start looking at them and looking out for them? Or caring for them? And if we do, would it be what keeps them with us? Happy and content?
Or would they have moved too far before we realize they have given up on us?
Remember the last time you said mother? Parent? Care? Oh! So much of concern. How you should be aware of their feelings, and how our lives should revolve around them? Remeber saying they should be the centre of our world? The very thing that we should be constantly aware of? Careful of? Mindful of?
Remember saying that our lives should be dedicated to their care, paying them back for what they did for us as children? Remaining indebted and trying to make things even. More out of the intent to repay their favours rather than out of gratitude…
Why could they not understand that gratitude is not always shown by doing as the other asks. Gratitude is not giving someone control over your life. Gratitude is doing something for that other person out of your own personal will. The way you want to.
But when it comes to giving up control and freedom; when they ask to specifically take instructions and do whatever they say, this is not paying back or showing gratitude. This is enslavement. Under the worst pretext available.
There is a great difference between gratitude and slavery.
The times when you so want to curl up and cry, to hide somewhere, run away from everyone….
The times when you feel like giving up, like everything is worthless, like nothing is working in the way desired…
The times when the world comes crashing, when the skies fall, when the earth bursts open, when even the closest ones leave your side…
The times when you lose the purpose of living, when nothing makes a sense, when even the next breath is a burden…
Don’t give up! Look up into your eyes, re-ignite that fire, visualize your purpose. There’s an answer to everything…
We all come across posts trying to make us realise how blessed we are. How we should not whine because someone is deprived. How we should be content and satisfied and how the presence of such deprived souls should make us live humble.
But sometimes I wonder why do we want to stop our growth because someone is not so well to do? Why can’t we grow and instead of being upset and pitiful, help these people up too? Why can’t we work so as to benefit them as well?
Giving them a share of our earning doesn’t help. They remain dependent. Showing sympathy and being pitiful does not help either. Our getting content with whatever we have doesn’t matter. because in all this, the question of their betterment remains unanswered.
What is it that we should do, as a collective society, to improve the condition humanity is in? What way leads us to a blissful garden?
But before we find answer to such questions we have an obstacle to tackle.
When do we erase the boundaries and consider all humans one?
I talked of chains
How I felt my wings bound
How it was suffocating
They asked, ” Where are the chains
You talk about;
Who binds you, you seem free
The cage is just metamorphic”
I think the words over
Were they right?
Why was it that I felt caged?
What denied my wings flight?
No, the chains couldn’t be seen
They were just words, lingering
A collection of random events
The burden of ‘Izat’
Stereotypes bound me
The rules- how, what, right, wrong
The piercing eyes- disapproving, shaming
The label of being a girl!
“Change all that you desire
But make yours better first
Be and then build”
I looked them in the eye
So blinded by ‘money’
their vision of life
end to every misery
I might quit everything
and change my situation
become something people yearn
earn and be in luxury
But would that money,
that free time
bring back the child
Would that cure wounds
the stray dog died of?
Would it bring smile on face
the child that sought help?
Building future was phenomenal
but, somewhere living in future
they asked me to overlook
the destruction that happened today!
Joy to eyes
I have seen dreams die
Youth crying, panicked
“I cannot see a thing
What happened to my eye”
I have seen sleep stab
Face in palms, crying
“Where did my peace go”
I have seen mournful weddings
No songs of joy being sung
Groom was shot on the way
“Where did his promise go”
I have heard kids wonder
“Everyone comes with parents
I go alone, with my mother
Where did my father go”
I have seen women
Not even a grave to cry
“Where did my husband go”
I hear a mother lament
“He was all I had
Peace to my heart, light to my eyes
Where did my son go!”
I see a procession, a funeral
I hear people sloganeering
“Azaadi, Azaadi, Azaadi, Azaadi!”
There were kids-playing
No luxury of toys
a folded papercup
a slipper in hand…
They played barefoot
The joy of even playing
life of less previledged
of poverty, hunger, deprivation
They roamed streets,
sometimes even begging
search for a meal.
Nobody to care for
an affectionate hand on head
They, their own guardians
they themselves the children!