Looking down the terrace of my residence, I look back to the yester years and willy-nilly think of calculating my gains so far in comparison with the pains I have earned. In this hide and seek of pain and gains, the later has hidden themselves to snooze while the former are consistently in search of the later. Pursuit and search has probably been divinely indoctrinated into my soul and I, despite all efforts and even urge, cannot join the people running on the
frequently traveled paths. Fond and practitioner of the ways less traveled by, I find myself in a jungle far away from civilizations of the modern world. Contemporary fashions corner me taking as misfit into their frame and again my jungle comes up as my destination. The price of being a blue stocking is perhaps more than that the scene down from terrace assures me once again from a corner of the heart.
Living in a society which has been labelled as male-dominated, a woman is necessarily supposed to be tagged as a mother, sister or more importantly wife to earn respect from the humans around. And if due to any reasons, she cannot be labelled on the defined criterion, life becomes really hard for them with multiple problems sprouted all around and the fierce ambush of males’ eyes hampers them to do what. Buying, owning, and living alone in a house are not just three steps; they drain a woman in all possible forms and shapes.
Life would have been somewhat easier had there been a pillar at least to stand the monitory building of breaths, I wonder sometimes. Breathing in an air where there is no worry to pay the expenses must be a great bliss for those who enjoy the fortification of a home. But what if these four walls are not allowed to someone or if allowed, demand a complete slaughter of vision, thoughts, and caliber. Down the terrace sun hiding in the west, children with heavy bags back from academies, and vehicles passing after intervals…………..