She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.
During my years of schooling, when I sat at a wooden desk reading the above lines, in a Convent school run by Roman Catholic nuns, I had no idea about the effect these lines would have on me during my adulthood. I had fallen in love with my gender since the initiation of womanhood in my life. During my teenage I started to love every facet of being a woman. The word ‘female’ used to sound almost magical to me while I was still a teenager. From the physical changes, to the confusions, to the mood swings, to the development of a body image, to getting attracted to the opposite sex, being a ‘female’ seemed like a gift of God to me.
Things took a U turn when I left my cosy nest and started to live in a city which quickly turned into the ‘national rape capital’. A city I had always dreamt of being a part of, a city I had made promises to on the very first morning I shared with it. The city became a mute spectator of a crime which not only killed a young woman on 24th December but also let the rascals tear away each thread that defined womanhood. A week later sitting in my home, I posted the following lines on my Facebook wall:
“The blows were brutal
the screams were horrific
the wounds are deeper than imagination
the scars are immortal
as I get up this morning, there are whispers in my mind:
“With her body, has he raped my mind too”
Today when I sit in front of my laptop typing out words that would express to the readers, reasons why not only womanhood but Indian womanhood is so special for me. I feel there is nothing better that could be compared to the lessons we are taught of womanhood than what nature teaches Lucy in the poem “Education of Nature” by William Wordsworth.
Many of my friends and readers would expect me to quote examples of some successful and famous Indian woman. But I think a lot has been already discussed and written about them, that I invest another blog on quoting them. I would rather invest my creative energies and writing skills in talking about the common Indian women.
The image of the willow tree described in the poem strikes me first when I think of the very first lessons we are taught in our households.
The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend;
Nor shall she fail to see
Ev’n in the motions of the storm
Grace that shall mould the maiden’s form
By silent sympathy.
Almost a month back when I was going through my Facebook profile, I came across a status update share by one of my friends which was dedicated to the entire community of working woman across the nation. The post expressed the feelings of a woman who refused to stay back at her office for longer hours and use to pickup her handbag sharp at 5 with confidence and no guilt. She said the reason that there was no guilt attached in her leaving the office sharp at 5 unlike her male counterparts sitting at their desks till around 8 or 9 was the role she played at her home. Our duties don’t end when we finish our work and reach home, rather the duties of a home-maker starts as soon as we step into the realms of our house.
Our children, our family, our maid, our pets all wait rather desperately for the door bell to ring informing them that the “Lady of the house” is back.Indian womanhood as I see it has never been about only our gender, it has been about evolving a female in a way that she becomes an asset for every person that knows her or is part of her life. Just like Lucy is taught to bend but gracefully and in a dignified manner. The Indian woman knows how to be humble but at the same time we do not compromise on our dignity and self respect. Unlike our western counterparts, our lives do not revolve around us and only us. We have different roles to play in each phase of our life. We have not only our dreams to realise and fulfil but we also have to stand up to the expectations of our family and parents.
So to all my lovely ladies reading this blog, the next time you feel depressed or sad, think of the lovely gifts we have received for not just being a woman but also for being an Indian woman. Our soul is made of tougher stuff than our western counterparts, because the odds we fight to achieve what we dream of in our life, has no comparison.
I like it when a flower or a little tuft of grass grows through a crack in the concrete. It’s so fuckin’ heroic.”
― George Carlin
From walking on the unsafe streets of a metropolitan city to combating molestation in public transportation to standing up against harassment in offices to fighting against domestic abuse to providing unconditional love to our children to being your husband’s favourite asset to providing a shoulder to our weeping friends……..The Indian woman is a born hero and is a fighter!!
“It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.”
― Maya Angelou, Phenomenal Woman: Four Poems Celebrating Women
