Two Halves of the Whole

I heard the comedian Vir Das say, “I come from two Indias”,
I clapped but did silently wonder,
Where was the poem for the woman who cooks,
Before she catches the next metro?

I am a woman in a society that says. “Wear what you like, speak what you feel.”
But I also breathe in a society that whispers, “change before Dadi sees”
“Keep a soft tone, he is talking to his parents on the phone.”
The ghoongat muted a voice already losing its tone.

My liberty to be independent is praised on Billboards,
But my laughter has a purdah with the guests' arrival.
“You are a modern girl” I was praised wearing a pantsuit,
But mornings began and nights ended with the fixed kitchen commute.

I am a woman rushing in a society where my resume is long,
But my relationship status decides if my stagnant position should prolong.
“Working so late”, a mischief in the words on one end,
And a complaint from the cold rotis on the other end.

I am a woman screaming in a society where my opinions are “considered”
But silently called “time of the month tantrums”
“She is so famous and talented” praised locals, the actress on the billboard,
“Yes, courtesy of her father and husband, the industry emperors” said the same locals.

I am a woman stretched in a society where I can become the CEO,
But it doesn’t matter unless “I know how to knead dough for real.”
“She’s so pretty! That position must have been easy”
Long nights and missed smiles vanish in view of my A-line skirt and tight pink blouse.

“Be a Mother” but “don’t get fat”
“Be the boss” but “remember your husband is your all”
“Be the leader” but “don’t forget my terms and conditions”
“Be traditional” but “don’t make too much of it.”
“Be sexy” but “don’t make the first move”
“Go out with your friends” but “don’t walk around alone.”
“Choose your path, the world is yours” but “before 7 you should be in the house”



I am a woman split into two societies
One where my achievements are clapped,
Only if they don’t disturb their little rituals planned.
I am a woman surviving the society where I can’t stay at home,
But my morality is questioned if I stay out a bit too much.

I find myself in my room again,
The claps have just begun for the two Indias.
He is staring at his fellow Indians, nestled somewhere seas away,
But tied to him and the two halves of India,
Leaving my two societies at the back stage.

I live in two societies, from two different worlds
All carved from one.
I pick when to be whom.
Which face to wear for whom.

In choosing an outfit every single day,
Playing roles in different scenes,
Smiling and nodding, looking at different shoes
I am losing fragments of me.

But it's okay, I guess,
Mummy did tell me while fixing my Saree pleats,
“These need to be perfect
And you should be too.”

“But Ma, what about the struggle?”
Her fingers didn't pause.
Pleat after pleat, fold upon a fold.
The fabric obeyed.

“Shouldn’t we change it?”
She smoothed the pleats one final time,
Pinned it in place
The pin clicked shut,
So did she.