If we largely talk of the life of a woman, we can call it a challenge, a tumultous jaunt, a dependence on a man, or a symathy for her family. Literally speaking words take a total decline but the long list of words which describe the life of a woman never end.
If we introspect every diminutive situation of a woman’s life it can be described as a suspenseful epic as since her birth as compromises and sacrifices just begin from her birth and she starts dwelling herself in various roles be that of a daughter, sister or a mother becoming the shield for her family and playing each one of them very beautifully.
If we compare the woman of the past with the woman of the modern day era the former has progressed a bit and if we talk of the latter they have left the secure domain of their homes and are now in the battlefield fully armoured with talent but in india they are yet to get their dues as a lot of discrimination prevails be it the wage gap between men and women , be it the shadows of patriarchy which she reels in, or else someone becoming a victim of domestic violence or any other form of abuse be it emotional or physical but in most of the cases she is told to bottle up all her feelings and not raise a voice against any form of injustice for it will bring a bad name to the prestige of the family but the question which pesters me is what about her own self ? Does she not possess a value of her own ? Is she not a whole being in entirety ?
Th plight of a woman can be summed up in the beautiful words of Rabindrinath Tagore:-
O Lord, Why have you not given a woman the right to conquer her destiny?
Why does she have to wait with her head bowed by the roadside
Waiting with tired patience
Hoping for a miracle in morrow ?
Despite all the criticism she stands as an epitome of patience, faces all the brunt with a smile ,does every bit to keep her family jubiliant , always makes small demands on life and never burdens others .She will never show that she too has sorrows, dissapointments, dreams that have been ridiculed. A woman is a rock in a riverbed, enduring without complaint, her grace not sullied but shaped by the turbulence that washes over her…