They eulogise her in their living room debates
Endorse her as a role model, who never errs
When conversation thickens, they slyly profess
How they crafted the Durga from the ordinary clay
.
They dole out tips and tricks to the miracle
Quoting assiduously to their stunned circle
‘Mix six tablespoons each of scorn and criticism
Add a cup of guilt-tripping, and the spell is done’
.
They boast of the incantation, its magical effects
A bait at the ready to appropriate differences
How it moulds her into an ever-whirring machine
A Goddess donning myriad hats with equanimity
.
They proudly describe her versatile cape
Complete with an instruction manual, intricate
They hail a woman’s multi-tasking superpower
As she glides through, juggling multiple sphere
.
She wears the chef’s hat, catering to every whim
Adapts to the rebirth, as the baby is born
She focuses resolutely, in the onerous cubicle
Struggling to stay true to her multifarious roles
.
At the slightest slip, she’s judged and condemned
Her behaviour is measured with an insatiable gauge
‘Done poorly here, a terrible error there’ they adjudge
Administering ‘heaps of dedication and diligence’.
.
While they coldly dissect her blatant failures
Behind closed doors, she sheds long-withheld tears
She laments the years lost, the futile optimism
And longs to break free of the ‘superwoman’ prison.
.
Picture credit : Martin Adams (unsplash.com)
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