I am that woman
Who bore you for nine months,
Had suffered tremendous pain
To light the world to you.
I am that woman
Who became the second mother to you.
Didi, the person that I was,
Sacrificed uncountable number of times to put a smile to your face.
I am that woman
Whose hands you held back in your late teenage.
Who lied to her parents
To get the money for your college fees.
I am that woman
Whom you called life partner.
It was I who deserted my surname,
To take up yours.
I am that woman
Whom you stared at
As I was returning home late at night
Because my dress didn't cover my thighs.
I am that woman
Who was robbed off her innocence
Because you thought
My breasts were a symbol of lust asking you to pounce upon me.
I am that woman
Who is scared to stay back at office for late hour meetings
As I know
The road to home is not very safe.
I am that women
Who is told that the length of my dress defines my character,
While speeches on empowerment and equality
Are trumpeted on camera.
I am that woman
Who waits for this world to get a wake up call
That it is not your daughter who needs to know what not to wear
But your son who needs to know what not to stare at.