You have no idea
What it's like, to be a woman
Everyday is a baptism by fire
As she walks on the street
Hundred hands appear
From nowhere, as if conjured
By a deft flick
Of a magician's wand
A magician who sends chills
Down the length of her spine
Chills that surpass even those
On a wintry night in Antarctica
Leaving her frozen
Till every bone stands still
As she is stripped of her dignity
Reduced to a shadow of her self

She strains every sinew in her throat
As she sends out a distress signal
Which fails to be intercepted
As the people look on
Some with fear
Some with sheer indifference
Some with a perverse interest
But none answer the call of duty
The call which is as basic
As the need for oxygen

You have no idea
What it's like, to be a woman
As she heads home
Seeking much needed solace
She is instead upbraided
For wearing a short skirt
For walking alone in the night
For not being a lady

As she fails to get support
From the family she holds dear
As a shipwreck survivor
Barely floating in freezing waters
Clings on to that piece of wood
Her self-esteem nosedives
Like that fateful Air India flight
That crashed at Mangalore
And shifts the blame onto herself
For not understanding the men
Who've brought her to this state
And succumbs to Stockholm Syndrome
Completing a vicious circle
Leaving men and the patriarchy winners
Winners who deserve the title
As much as a student
Who clears his trimesters
Using bits of paper
Tucked neatly inside his shoes