Woman In My Dream
This is one of my very early poems, but I have decided to edit and re-post it.
My dream was to be a Jane Austen,
Or a Virginia Woolfe, whose “stream
Of consciousness” novel rocked the world,
Or Kadambari, the muse who inspired
The incomparable bard in Bengali Literature.
A few fearless women - Debjani, and Gandhari,
From Mahabharata, and Draupadi
But before anyone else, I want to be
The woman who appears in my dream.
Never went to school, she was not allowed,
Picked up any paper when sweeping the floor,
And she read. She was warned women became
Widows if they read, she was unstoppable.
She bore ten children, two still-births,
She cooked for thirty people every day,
Ate after she fed everyone,
She hand-knitted blankets to keep her
Children warm, prayed for everyone
she knew, and for the universe.
My grandmother, and so many women like her,
Started a revolution, carried a torch,
Without realizing the legacy they left,
The barrier they broke,
The burden on us they lifted,
Did they see us, the women of today
On the horizon!
The liberated, empowered women
We are today, no one can stop us from going
To school, and choosing our path,
We decide to marry or not, who to marry,
We raise our children with confidence.
We don’t ask for money, we earn money,
We lead, we invent, we do miracles.
Sorry Jane Austen, I would rather be
My grandmother’s granddaughter,
Not anyone else.
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