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literature poetry writing

Idolizing him

It takes time, to resist all the unwanted things you are discerning for so long. Like they are yours to be heard and comprehend. All the misgiving love and the infidelity is yours to be pardoned and that too with dignity.

But do we really deserve behaviour that doesn’t serve happiness but grief?

Is life providing us what we actually deserve?

My question emerged when I was too young to understand that women and men aren’t merely creatures but different genders. Having opinions that sometimes doesn’t match, the voice of different rhythm, and likings too.

Will I be unheard too by dad? I question myself.

“Crying and yelling’’ just a woman is unheard.

Better you don’t say a word too.

My mum signed looking at my father’s anger.

“Maybe dad had a different mood today or pressure of office. As he has always been the best employee of the year” I murmured.

Maybe that day I want telling my mom anything but confiding that dad can’t be unfair to my mom.

Shaken yet mistaken again.

Year’s later, I was handed to a man who was quite nice to me. He once screamed at me too, not to dominate but to say that I can yell at him whenever I feel like.

So as I knew that good women let men do whatever he yearns for. I did the same. I began with small little things.

I started putting his towel off his bed and pressed his clothes whenever he had to leave. I started loving the process honestly. Coming back early for him, waiting for him at the door arriving from work, making tea became the most unusually and satisfactory things for me.

Then I understood men didn’t ask us to do all these chaos. We, women, did it ourselves. When they were in the cloud we stand still in the ground by ourselves. Not because they are dominating, or superior. But we rejoice to do these small little things for them.

Trust me we aren’t following our rituals too.

My man when comes back to me,

I wanna be his home.

With all the convenience, where he can live,

I wanna be that entity for him.

I wanna serve him whatever he asks me too,

Helter-skelter I believe he wants me too.

No, we do honour one another,

When the sun is bright I wanna be his shelter.

I will bear the agony which comes to him,

As it’s my discretion to be his eternal being.

-Riya Shah

By Ray

POET| CONTENT WRITER| BLOGGER