Aamar Baadi - 'My Home'

Published on: 29th January 2014
Watching thru' the side glance fell my sight on wrinkled face, toothless grin n crinkled eyes,
Staring out of the frame, stark into my face were the residents of Aamar Baadi...
Meaning something that means nothing in the real sense,
Coz... It means 'My Home' but which home, whose home n what claim?
When she became a widow she was disowned 'n' thrown...
Thrown out of the place that she called her home,
She's not alone as there are many more in number like her who too are housed in here.
Wishful I think is the name of the place which she intends to spend rest of her life in,
Caught in a circle of disowned existence is she surviving and breathing,
Still bearing the burden which weighed on her parents on her birth,
on the shoulders of her Children and society once she became a widow...
Decipher/Unpuzzle...was the intention when I thought of going down the quizzing path,
All the sayings of 'Geeta' seem to be true only for the women, when it says...
What have you brought that u shall carry with you?
Make no attachments for nothing is worth clinging on to as all is Mortal...
Aamar Baadi - My home

Are we really practicing the preachings or finding as easy way out?
An easy way... To get rid of the weaker sex?
For here we show no attachment, making it easy to get rid of them,
How? Well...
Some fathers discard them in Womb, some whisper in the ears at marriage...
Now you belong to them... They are the ones you have to take care of...
Passing the buck continues, when out of the moments of procreation come the next owners,
The children... for she belongs to them now,
Deep in the heart, still is the solace that her Lord her husband is there to take her in his arms,
Giving her the luxury to wet his sleeves with her tears of grief,
Lending a patient ear to her occasional cribbings,
Intimate moments recede n finally cease... So does the need..,
For now is the wanting of soul than of longing...
Mortality shows its presence and snatches from her the only thing that gave her life.. an identity
And meaning,
The moments of togetherness n belongingness come to an end...
Now is the time to pass her off again...
Ironically in to the namesake of the same place which could never be hers
Inspite of slogging nights, sweating frights n bitter fights...
What should she look on to... The name ?or the grace which is offering her a shelter?
Aamar Baadhi (My Home) which never was hers
But this beautiful soul shall again slog to try n make one
Like always... She will strive...
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