Just Let Me Be
I whispered. I shouted. I announced. I smiled.
“Respect and listen to your elders. we only mean good for you”, they said.
“Why can’t you get grades like other girls? You’ll never get a good job!” they compared
“Your books and fantasy world won’t take you anywhere. Focus on your studies”, they hollered.
Hands tied down. Back broken.
Forced to be a slave,
I did nothing other than bend to their wishes.
“Do engineering. It’ll pay you well. You can always do whatever you want later”, they preached.
“Make sure to get a job, no matter what you do. Slog. Do internships”, they pressurized.
“Pursue your dreams after you get married. Now’s the time to find you a husband”, they screamed with misogyny.
Steering my kayak, robbing me of my oars.
Leaving no place to jump.
I knew not how to swim in this vicious sea they call life
“Give birth to a baby. Buy a house. Settle down. It’s good for you,” they controlled.
“Dreams? Travel? Writer? What are you talking about? Your place is at home with your family”, they voiced.
“What are you going to achieve anyway? You’re after all a girl”, they announced
The truth came rushing, a melancholic epiphany.
That the vicious cycle might never stop,
That their demands might never end.
That the society’s expectations would be a roaring river,
Pushing and pulling me as it wishes,
Overwhelming me until I resign to its currents
I didn’t want to get sucked anymore,
Into this whirlwind, everyone called life.
Within this job. Within this family. Within this society.
I wanted to be an explorer, travelling the world,
Opening my eyes to a myriad of experiences,
Penning down my thoughts to inspire the world.
I want to become a writer!
I want to travel the world!
I protested. I begged
Writer, traveller? How will society respect you?
What will we tell relatives?
They questioned petrified.
I fought. I cried. I fought again. I cried again.
Time went on as I writhed, crying in pain.
Staring wide-eyed at people pursuing their dreams.
Breaking inside.
Bit by bit.
Piece by piece.
Finally, I shattered with pieces flying everywhere.
Not caring about the shape I was bound by.
Not caring how I would survive later.
I didn’t care anymore.
Not for family. Not for friends. Not for society.
Finally, I cared only about “me”. Just me.
Just let me be, I whispered.
Just let me be, I shouted.
Just let me be, I announced.
Just let me be, I smiled.
Thank you, Venkataraman Mahalingam, for inspiring me to write poetry and helping me in this journey.
