Just Saying : Is there a single word that could comprehensively summarize or define a woman?
Wise ones have deified her, singing paeans to her larger than life virtues. Wisecrackers have let go at her, making a parody of her alleged vices.
A real woman lies somewhere in between, an amalgamation of fun and foibles.
At the risk of blowing my own trumpet, I can say I try to live up to my moniker. A crazy potpourri of bitter sweet.
A woman in me, would shed copious tears at the sight of a drop of blood, on my children’s body but would be the rock of Gibraltar on seeing the black clouds of self doubt creeping into their heads. My children are forever my rockstars.
A woman in me, would slave away to slaughter the fatted calf ( Gosh! is it even kosher to say that anymore? ) for my children but wouldn’t bat an eyelid grabbing the last bite of cheesy pizza or the crispy fries, off their plates.
I am best buds with my children. Many a time, they are my shoulder to cry on. But bring the house down, I will, if I don’t get requisite respect.
A woman in me, would burn the midnight oil and sit alongside the children while they attempt to crack various exams but would not think twice, snoozing off in the warm rajai and letting the daughter miss the school bus.
What fun it is to snuggle around, gossip and chomp away.
I am filled with jealousy, with fire rising through my nostrils, whenever I see a nymphet without an ounce of fat on her, runs past me without losing a beat while I pound the walkway, barely managing an even breath with my lungs literally hanging out. Show me her driveling cutesy little moppet, I go all gooey and smothery.
I still love my man to death even though I discover through my trial by fire that he is no longer the hero of my marital dreams but still a very honorable man. I treasure our love mellowed by life’s lusty lashings and love the familiar comfort of our ripened marriage. Because I realize that love is simply being there and is all about celebrating small pleasures together.
The woman in me, appreciates that he may not give me roses but will not be a thorn in my way and that he may not give chocolates but let’s me chill and carve my own path.
The woman in me loves those warm calls from parents who still care for me as their little girl while I aspire and strive to be the much weathered woman of the world. I understand that for a loving mom, her darling progeny is always a child, no matter however grown up.
When I toggle between being a daughter and a mother, it’s always packing & unpacking of emotions.
The woman in me, would leave no stone unturned to have a thriving career and growing finances but would not mind coyly batting eyelids and dragging the husband to every happening sale, to empty his wallet.
What can I say but there are times when every inch of my core screams ‘you ain’t got it in you to swing this!’
So I get busy, lest those doubting monsters trip and maul me, coaxing those winding, wandering thoughts into abiding silence, to carve out my insanely impossible dreams
Because hope floats and the fearless mind is my horizon
My family sustains me
The aphrodisiac power of likes motivate me
My dreams drive me and my accomplishments complete me.
God, be there for me please.. Always
Just treat me to a plate of Kulfi Falooda, gimme a warm smile. I am all yours.