Happy Birthday to me

I touched 30
2 years ago
this day.
Age-shaming much?
No way!!
it’s the media and ads
that live in a fearful world,
so they scare others too.
But the questions deserving
perfect eye-rolls and facepalms
always stand in a hungry queue
“Oh! You are 30 something?
you look so young.”
Someone please tell them.
“Darling, 30 is young”
“Why you aren’t getting married?”
Why, because ring in my fingers
and a toddler on my waist
is the only way
to complete me?
Sorry to have a bubble bursted
but I’m not society’s
Life planning math workbook
or biological ticking bomb
that defines my worth
by following some bully timelines.
I wore a cape of womanhood
after so many frostbitten scuffles
and relentless struggles
that now it graces my flesh and bones.
that’s quite enough to be the last
piece of my life’s puzzle.

Journey of a
timid 6-year-old
trying to identify
her father
in a star, he said
he would look it
down from there,
to becoming a woman
who saw her
mother churning herself
and tending to her lost kid
with 3 shifts under her wing;
All this unchained a treasure
I don’t ever want to part with.

My twenties
were a wastral
in terms of people
I invested in.
I let my
innocence and
ignorance turn
alarming snoozes
into blazing red flags
of friendship
that assassinated
my self-confidence.
But, now I know
leaving toxicity
while it swirl
in a whirlpool
of blame games,
is not just okay
but a sign of
strength; of not
justifying self
for the smallest things.

I am finally
In a better place
mentally, psychologically, financially
yet they want to find a manicured
other-half to see me ‘settled’.
They say the world is changing
I’d say it always changes
but on the surface
because they don’t dare dip themselves
amidst broken layers of depth,
so ignorantly, add some
‘must(s)’ in a women’s life.

I know It’s the smallest feat
but if you ask me
I am proud I got to know myself.
I know what I am now
I know what I want
My passion dances on
my eyeballs with a clear vision.
I don’t feel like that rusty
old book at the corner of the shelf
no one picks up to read, anymore.
I am that freshness
of a newly opened
pickle jar that
instantly fills the surrounding
with its aroma.
I’m now the potpourri
of self- reliance I learned
over the past years
and the kindness
I had been carrying
since the childhood.
I’m those 32 no stones left unturned
whose efforts made
people get inspired.
Believe me,
there is no expiration date
to learn something new

I have accepted the fact
It’s not easy finding
metaphors for self
while I blacken the white
pages with their praises,
accomplishments, triumphs.
But from now onwards
I’d audaciously
write about my self
because no one writes
about the writers
and I’m here to
break the wheel.

At last, if you want to
sway with yourself
listen to
“It’s hard to be a woman”
From Something in the Rain ­čśë
I am just attracted to that song.


┬ękanikachugh

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