I have never been a feminist, nor will I ever be one, I guess, but it is something about women that stumps me, like it does to a billion men around the world. Their sheer love for giving, being able to express joy but not love, finding happiness in whatever is given and compromising and adjusting all her life. That is what makes a woman.
It’s the day when the Reservation Bill in the Parliament was to bring a change to the status of women in India. It’s the day when women around the world, celebrate their womanhood. It’s that day when two women in the train became the inspiration of my blog.
I’ve never met them before, will probably never again, but when the Thane bound 6.10 pm fast local left platform 7 of CST today, two women, let the spirits of a whole compartment free with their carefree and melodious voices. Singing about nothing but just the lives of women in Mumbai, those two women who worked at the BMC, made me think of the women in my life.
My mom’s never quite been the ordinary housewife, always keeping herself busy with something or the other. I never remember her doing “nothing!” So when she decided to work again, somehow the idea didn’t seem too bad, she’d been working always anyway! But it was when she started working when things started to change drastically. The lonely house would yell in a hundred different ways, everyone had a lot of “growing up” to do; suddenly you grew responsible to where the keys to various cupboards and doors were. Whether the gas was put off, whether the servant came or no, whether the milk was kept in the fridge, whether instructions to the cook were understood and so on…
The first stanza of the “Powada” by the women was about the early morning rush in the life of a woman, getting ready herself, the Tiffin boxes ready, the children ready etc. My mom’s life since the past three months.
I, my sister, and practically every girl in my life, perfectly match the second stanza of the Powada. The women, who rush out of the houses, catch horribly crowded trains, but still find time for a lot of laughter and fun, and realize only when the time comes that we have forgotten something, (in most cases, it’s not just your homework but also your wallets, train passes etc. Perhaps only in my case!)
My grand mom, is active, is innovative, is full of energy and most of all is a sport. The woman of the third stanza. Who listens to all, but does her own in the end. One who cherishes her siesta, who wishes the whole world eat food made by her, one who never forgets your favorite color while buying you a dress.
My maasi is actually that, maa- si, like my second mom. She is one lively aunt you wish you’d have. She goofs up big time! Like the description in the fourth stanza. Where the woman gives the husband, the child’s lunch box. Abu, you are that woman, goofy but extremely lovable!
The song was called “Kashya zagtat Mumbaichya Baaika”, which, literally translated from Marathi, would mean “How the women of Mumbai live(?!)” but much more beyond that, it was an ode to the women, their lives, their womanhood, their passion for life.
It’s a few minutes after International Women’s Day ended, but I guess I am still not very late, here’s wishing all the women in my life, a very Happy Women’s Day!
Those two women, the silhouettes of my life, have now become an eternal memory. Their song resounds in my ears as a body of the silhouettes of the thoughts that they created in me. They are the silhouette de la vie! J