Liberated or Dispirited....?


Coming in the wake of Women’s Day, I wonder if women really are as liberated and free as they profess themselves to be. Lull the mind into believing what you want, at the basic sub-conscious level; much easier than facing startling realizations.

Every time women all over the world, achieved victory however tiny, ranging from winning a law suit against a predator, citing sexual harassment, to the laws of a particular culture being changed, giving women equal say in matters of marriage and divorce, my heart would leap with joy. The gushing of a young, unadulterated mind, untainted by spoils. Pure. I felt let’s say emboldened.

Today when I stand at the brink, at the very same threshold, women all over have crossed before me, I cannot but help feel my stomach lurch. My mind is in turmoil for I am at a crossroads in life. I’m young, successful, aspire to soar to heights unknown. Aspire to further my career in all dimensions. Money, fame, lucrative deals beckon just as any man. I have a view from the top, and enjoy it all. Soon I come crashing down.

I just as any other woman, will join a man in wedded bliss. For a short time I will be caught up in the fantasy surrounding the post honeymoon paradise, and all will seem rosy and peachy. He’s my hero, my man. Soon I will bear a child, not because I have to, but because I truly believe it is a gift of life. My once soaring career takes a step-back, for only a short while, I assure myself. My baby needs me now. So I turn into a part time working- from-home-mother, enabling me to change nappies. And I do it without a second thought. After all a man can NEVER be expected to make such sacrifices. Soon my little one grows, and my motherly duties progress to fetching and dropping my cub to play school, art classes, karate and whatever to keep his/her mind occupied. I want my child to have lots of friends, so I organize various kid extravaganzas, allowing my child to interact with others of a similar age group.

I find myself mingling with other such once-career-driven-now-stay-at-home-mums. We exchange notes, with a promise that we shall return to it all, in a short while. The little one soon branches out like a banyan tree, duties now changing to imposing curfews on teenage revelries, dating, drinking, smoking and all such vices, the promise of long ago now forgotten. Before I know it, the little birdie has flown the coop. So where does that leave me?

An old, weary, forty-something woman who’s too dispirited to sift for the remains of her vestigial career. A glorious return, such as the famed rise of the phoenix from the ashes remains but a distant dream.