I am what I am

By
Being born as a woman in Indian society comes with a huge list of pros and cons.  Qualifying in the ‘marriageable age’ adds on the list altogether more. No sooner did I qualify for that criteria, I was tagged available in the marriage market. Grooms were being searched and almost every eye that saw me had something or the other to comment either on my looks or my weight. There were millions of thoughts running in my mind during that time, this poem being one of them ~
 
Source: Google Images
I might not have a gorgeous face, but I do have a beautiful soul.
I might not have an hourglass figure, but my caring heart compensates for it.
I might not have drop dead looks, but the warmth I elude makes up for it.
I might not be a style icon, but my cheerful smile still makes heads turn.
I might not be the prettiest face in the crowd to catch your attention, but Me- just the way I am surely makes me worthwhile.
~This is Me~
A dreamer ~ with twinkling eyes.
A child ~ with an impish smile.
A lover~ in love with life.
A soul~ dying to be loved.
A heart ~ hoping with each beat.
A woman~ waiting to be wanted.
Love me or hate me; it does not change me for I am what I am.



Popular posts from this blog

Diary of a Lost Wanderer - Lost & Found

By
Image
Dear Diary, I fell in love with Mumbai when I first visited it in 1995. Bombay, as it was then known, fascinated me since then.  If you ask me what made me fall in love with this city, I perhaps cannot explain. It wasn't that I was seeing the sea for the first time. It wasn't even the biggest city I had been to till then. Still, there was something so magical about this place. The trip was a short one lasting less than a week but this city now had my heart. Years later, I arrived here all alone on my first solo trip in 2005 and fell in love all over again. I got my first job and was required to come to Mumbai frequently. The local trains, the chaos on the roads, the crowds, the humdrum, the salty smell in the air, the stale air- everything about this city was intoxicating for me. 
Keep reading »

Essay: How to mourn the loss of love?

By
Image
Image Source: Unsplash.com I remember the first time I mourned the loss of love was when I was eleven.  For me, dance was love at that time. I had discovered a strange joy as I glided in and out of those movements. Every time I swirled; I could feel my heart soar. Any beat that strained to reach my ears, tempted me to move my body to its tune. I just knew I was born to dance and that is the only thing I wanted to do, all my life.  I had my reasons to believe so and a very simple one at that. It made me happy. That was a reason enough. However, my father thought otherwise. Girls from good families, do not dance. That line was enough to break all those rosy dreams of dancing on a stage. The day my brother was sent to the same dance class which was not good for me, was the day I experienced heartbreak for the first time.  That is the day I mourned the loss of my first love- Dance. 
Keep reading »

Metro Diaries: The Art of Making Love

By
Image
Image Source: Unpexels (Cottonbro) “Do you know why is it called making love?” He whispered, pulling the comforter closer.  I don’t remember for how long we had been in that room, on that bed. Lying aimlessly, just feeling each other in silence. I managed to just whimper to denote my curiosity.   “Because that is the moment we create love. We are the closest we could ever be to love, in its purest form. It is sheer magic as we are naked, in every form. Mentally, physically and emotionally before that one person, we love. We know they can hurt us, as much as they want to, in the way they want to. But love gives us that power to trust them, that they won’t.”   “And here I was thinking it is a need. Something you want at that moment and you get it!” 
Keep reading »