With Joy amidst the mewling,
The bloodied cloth unfurled.
A sorrow began unspooling,
When she said… ‘It’s a girl’.
.
It was but their worst fear;
Claimed as ‘Curse of a demon’.
The options were ever clear,
‘Either a Boy… or a Burden…’
.
Silently in a noisy gloom,
It was now about acceptance;
They were all back home soon;
And then began their penance.
.
Raised in a so-called ‘palace’;
Material formed the illusion,
No… she wasn’t a princess;
The ‘palace’ became her prison.
.
Then came the adolescence;
And the innocent young soul,
Getting nothing but ignorance
From ‘Society’ as a whole.
.
School began her struggle;
Alone she walked that road.
Be it achievement or trouble,
Barely she got any support.
.
Even the little freedom she had,
Soon was rendered dead.
She hadn’t done anything bad,
But, for the first time, she had bled.
.
Slowly, Gracefully and Poised,
Forced to walk a given route;
Silenced at expressing choice,
She grew up to be a mute.
.
Barely pulling the anchor,
She completed her basic education.
Whether it was love or anger,
She had concealed all emotion.
.
Soon they could no longer tolerate
The weight of the ‘ever-growing’ burden.
So they found a robotic mate,
Whose family demanded a huge ransom.
.
It is a traditional societal construct,
Whenever there is a transfer of burden;
They were just selling a product,
The one they called their son.
.
Marital Life seemed different,
She regained the ability to dream.
But that dream was just apparent,
Short-Lived and not as it seemed.
.
That joy came from maternity,
When she started carrying a life.
She was only serving her destiny,
As the machine he called his wife.
.
Then came the judgement day,
And all her dreams were torn.
Fortune, for her, had lost its way,
Yet again… a girl was born.
.
She could never hope to be forgiven,
After having done that dreadful deed.
Thus, she was left forever forsaken,
For lending her womb to a female seed.
.
Then began the maternal damnation,
Trapped in the hopeless cave;
She still served them with conviction,
Just as that of a slave.
.
With Bones brittle but spirit alive,
She lent her service tirelessly.
Only used as means to thrive,
Otherwise abandoned helplessly.
.
The cycle of abandonment came to an end,
When her service became futile.
To a community home she was sent,
And found rest only in exile.
.
Sans teeth, Sans strength, Sans Sanity,
Dwelling in her long-lost dreams.
Sans friends, Sans love, Sans family,
She dreamt how it could’ve been.
.
Different would be her journey,
Plethora she could’ve obtained.
She could’ve reached beyond infinity,
If her wings were not contained.
.
The Kindle slowly fading within,
Devoid of all observers;
Her spirit once and finally gave in,
As she exclaimed her final words-
.
“I accept the crude reality,
Of what we cannot and what we can;
It’s a perdition enforced naturally,
To be a Woman in the world of Man.”
.

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