We all need a little magic

To her, him, you and us,

When I was a foetus and one day opened my eyes, I realised that the world wasn’t round with infinite possibilities, but an asylum of cacophonous curses, all directed towards the girl child.

When I broke free from the umbilical cord, I was arrested by shackles of a patriarchal past that leached out of me- my pride, my mind and my will.

I was just a child.

Yellow, blue and green, were not colours I could enjoy. I had certain preferences, as was told, Yellow was too outspoken and green too bold.

I was given a choice to submit or be deprived. Pink suited my complexion, made me a bride; but if I whispered red, I was thrashed, for taboos in this country were not meant to be broken but concretised.

I tried to breathe, I tried to talk. I screamed and again stumbled to walk. I closed my legs and said no! They said, it is not your place to question,

so just let it go.

I stared back. I fought, I kicked, I bled but, never did I stop.

Instead, I worked my way to the top, I raised standards and eyes up from my top. I ran faster than the wind; I broke the stratospheric layer and brought back stars; I pushed and pushed and created miracles; I influenced histories and political discourses.

I tried to show you that I was beyond a showgirl and that blondes and brunettes are just colours and not identities.

That my standards and recommendations are higher than my heels.

And that I am fearless and ferocious and will not kneel.

But you again, saw my chest before my paycheques and dictated a skirt length so that your male ego wouldn't get wounded. And if I ever climbed ladders faster and sooner that you would, you could blame it, not on my innovation or talent or dedication but on the length of my skirt or the transparency of my shirt.

Well, I am done. Done being questioned, dictated, followed, touched, pushed, violated, stopped, restrained and asked to do all this single everyday, all over again.

I am walking with my head held high and talking with my voice piercing the sky. I am sitting with my legs open and breathing without asking for permission.

I am asking you to try and see the world from a different eye. Not blue or pink or black or white. But a world where you and I both are right.

Where we don’t rule but race. Where we don’t punish but heal with grace. where boys cry and so do girls, but no one laughs when someone is feeling hurt.

A place where waist sizes and biceps aren’t characteristics and no one is stopped and asked to put on disguises.

Is it a utopian world, you ask? But look around, I believe we all need a little magic.