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Yes, I am a woman.

The one who was loathed at birth.

The one unloved in childhood.

The one who had to abide by rules.

The one who was not supposed to question norms.

The one who was taught to be blind, timid and shy.

The one who did all and had none.

The one who was a doormat.

The one who would never complain.

The one who could be handled like a puppet.

The one who could be stared at, touched inappropriately and used.

The one who was an object.

The one who died without mourning.


I am a woman.

Free. On my own.

Yes, I am a woman.


Scribbling Girl said… true of most woman lives...u captured it all in so short words...Marvelous :-)

Was dark , painful and yet the reality we dont wanna see.
Ria said…
This was so real....painful but true!
Avi said…
Dark truth brought out nicely !
Anwesa, you remind me of Ben Johnson's song"That Woman are but Men's Shadows" in which he says playfully that women have no solid and independent personalities of their own, but depend for men in their very existence.
I do consider your mourning your sex bad luck in this high refusal tone. I respect you a lot.
That's me said…
So true... I relate with every single line. This is the first time I visited you blog and you already have a fan now :)
Beautiful. I am glad it ain't true anymore. The equation has changed.
Anwesa said…
@Scribbling Girl,
Thanks :)
Anwesa said…
@The new reader from Yemen,
Apologies ! I cannot catch your name.
Thanks for being here,reading this and caring to drop in a few lines.
Anwesa said…
Thanks !
Anwesa said…
@That's me,
:) Thanks a lot ! Readers like you give me a pep to keep going.
Anwesa said…
@The Peripatetic Nomad,
:) Yes,it has. For the better.
Phoenix said…
can anything be more beautiful than this?

i love your thoughts that made you write this!! :)
Anwesa said…
Thanks dear !

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Concealed by dark clouds
You keep shining.
Bright streaks of light
Dazzle me.
Enchant me.
And keep me waiting..
Waiting for you.

Amidst Soul-lessness

There is smoke somewhere. 
I cannot seem to figure out where. 
The lights are here, the music is here.
Has it been home here ?
Perhaps. Maybe when it did not rain.
Or maybe when it rained and it did not matter.
Maybe when I walked alone, smiling to myself. 
Or maybe when I realized I was okay.
Had it been always like this ?

Not really. 
Things clicked, took effort and blood. 
Did I do it ? Or the beasts did ? Maybe we both together,
Played this game. 
Amidst soulful solitude, it was love. 
Maybe appreciation.
Another journey, another dry spell. 
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P.S. : Penned at Candies, Bandra on 11th January 2017 


I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.

I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.

I cannot remember my mother
only when from bedroom window
I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

~Rabindranath Tagore
Note : This was one of  the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.