‘To be, or not to be’
How precisely and wonderfully Shakespeare presented the soliloquy of a man in his play Hamlet. I wonder if he had ever tried portraying a woman’s dilemma in such an eloquent manner. Even if he had, I am sure it wouldn’t be persuasive.
No, I am not raising a question mark in his knack. I know he is the one among few who have immortalized their creations. It’s just a feeling of mine. Yes, mine.
I am a distorted self; pulled, twisted and muddled by several quandaries. I am my father’s daughter, a brother’s sister, a boy’s girlfriend, a man’s wife, a son’s mother, a lad’s friend. I am pampered by my father, respected by my brother, wooed by my boyfriend, questioned by my husband and teased by my male friends. I am a house wife. At the same time I am also a manager. These relationships baffle me. Along with this the expectations that the society has for me makes me mad.
I keep on asking myself.
Who am I?
What do I aspire?
You may be laughing and contemplating not only women, men too are bounded by these kinship and norms of society, we, men too have to face that.
But, my friend, have you ever pondered on how it feels to be imprisoned inside self built cage?
No, you haven’t. You haven’t been through the state of asking whether to be yourself, or not to be. That’s because you are always what you want to be or you are free to choose whatever you want to be.
Oh! Poor me, I don’t have that right. I don’t know whether I should gain weight or to loose. If I gain some calories, they call me obese and if I lose some they term me skeleton. I am tired to figure out what I should actually wear. I want to flaunt my skirts but if I dare to do that I am gored by those piercing eyes which sticks on my skin and God knows what else they start visioning. Thus, I drape a saree (a traditional garment consisting of a length of cotton) just to protect myself from those taunts that my society would bestow me if I opted my comfy.
My body! Is it really mine? When my husband presses my bosom and hits me hard, I too want to grapple him, but I can’t. If I do that I may be suspected on my purity. Instead of listening to my desire, I pause and be a mere object for him.
Society judges me on whatever I do. More than society, you judge me. Whenever I walk along with man, you judge me reliant and whenever I chose to be single you assume my life is lacking, (If that’s for a longer period,you land up concluding that I must have some problem).
Some days I am worshiped as the incarnation of great Goddesses while the other (most of the days) I am just the subject of unwarranted pity. I want to focus on my career but I am tortured with the 5W 1H (What, When, Where, Who, Why, How ) questions about marriage, which you are less likely to be asked about. I am compared with that moon. Alas! I can’t walk on moon light because wolves are there howling and waiting to prey upon me.
I am confused and indecisive. But at the same time I am empowered. I can balance my work and my children. Most of the times I have excelled on whatever I have done with all my heart even when I am in the stage of confinement with fewer opportunities.
YET, I keep on hammering my head to consider whether to place myself the first or the last.
Hello brother, do you also have similar soliloquy or is it just a sexist perplexity?
Umm! Sexy thoughts, aren’t they?
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