My smiling grandma…

Why can’t you be like our grandmothers, he said

They were content as long as the household was fed

They existed inside those walls, devoid of ambition

Immersed in household work, keeping alive cultural traditions

Despite lack of independence, financial or otherwise

They ran households, maintained close familial ties..

*

Out of all the myths that we as a society propagate

The starkest one is that of women in a blissful state

Your grandmother who as content you perceived

Knew that airing of grievances would be poorly received

Do you know how many heartaches untold

Were hidden in her wrinkles, her saree folds?

Her dreams she must have from childhood suppressed

When repeated childbirths and miscarriages left her distressed

She must have shed silent tears, alone or in commiseration

With other women who had faced similar situations

For the family’s misfortunes she must have taken blame

She must have run a tight ship though she had nothing to her name

She probably lived her life in practiced stoicism indeed

Looking for happiness in fulfillment of her family’s needs…

*

Women were taught to keep their stories private

To not bother men with their issues, they had a lot on their plates

The idealized image of a smiling grandmother does hide

Deep pockets of grief and countless scars inside..