a lot goes into making a woman

 

Tall, short, fair,dark, fat and thin

dusky or wheat complexion;

a lot goes into making a woman.

She is a daughter, tries to be on the top of her class

gets her parents' praises; never caught in the wrong 

Then she goes to college; is there anyting she doesn't do?

Parents are so proud of her; praises are nothing new.

Then comes the best part, falling in love 

gates to the heart when open, what happens to the mind part;

mind feels heart is weak; mind advises against the deed

Still she goes ahead, as she has read somewhere, care for the heart.

Marriage is totally new game; love is only the cream

when she digs down she finds faults; with one and all

Now the mind laughs; Did I not warn you earlier sweet heart;

Do as I tell you; mind takes over the heart.

Love is left far behind; even the trace is lost

only thing that remains, is the warrior at heart;

battles are fought, wars are lost; arguments are used

only the memory is enhanced.

Life is a bitter struggle for her

No friends or enemies live near

she wants to be left alone for ever

Thinks, that will solve problems for her.

Such women, who forget love, what do they do?

They cry bitterly over past errors; I feel though

wife to some one they can never be;

All they need is another woman, a wife maybe.

Don't get me wrong; Don't wonder I don't belong;

There are other women, who are born,

who excel in nothing at all; but they do no wrong 

sometimes they too have good times; mostly they just pass along.

They too fall in love, their minds too send them warnings

They too listened to their heart and go ahead in their journeys

Marriage for them nothing different; they are wise ;

as they dont expect; they make their walls, homes.

They keep family together; they don't want any enemy within

As they work in their workshops, insults as tools and intellect as waste

they hone their minds, sculpt their heart; 

pains taken to get a beautiful art.

when I wondered where i belong?

I was thinking how I had evolved

Is it the fault of the woman; who was left undone?

Is it the fortune of the one; who adores the walls.

A lot of events applies to one and all,

A lot of strokes hits us along,

The fury of the events are for all

Sun and breeze do not distinguish at all.

Some trees grow and bear beautiful flowers

Others wither when young:

Some spread fragrance within our heart.

Some only become fences of thorns.

Don't get me wrong; I am a feminist too

Sufferings of a woman, should never be condoned;

But when misery is thrown around, by a few;

stop the plague, kill the disease, as it will definitely spread around.