Who is a female? A question that consistently ponders me.
Is she a mere piece of flesh and bone? Is she a puppet to dance at the tunes of the males? Is she the one to earn and make the family sustain?
Or is she a bundle of joy- Born to nurture in the so called democratic world Born merely to endeavor day and night Born to bring smiles but not to cherish one for her self Born to endure every pressure with open arms and smiling face Born to take care of every parasite enjoying in the family Born to cook delectable cuisines to satiate the hungry souls
But If she is all in one If she is a versatile genius If she is deft in performing multifarious roles If she is dexterous in garbing different subject positions If she is the heart throb among the chauvinistic male fraternity If she is the incarnation of the Gods and Goddesses If she is a complete whole
Then why still A female is a non-entity Mere piece of furniture Decked up with a hypocrite smile Unable to exercise her own self Falling short in not using her hard earned resources
I implore every individual to ponder over the following feminine concerns- When will the revolution occur in the life of a female? Who will bring the change for a female for the better? When will this poor soul seek dignity in a male dominated society? When can this beautiful creation live her life the way she wants to?
A PhD in American Literature, Dr Disha Khanna- The Diva! possesses 10 years of hands on experience in the field of teaching at the university level. Dr Khanna, a philosophical, fun loving and adventurous person is the content writer of school and college books. She has to her credit the translation of Hindi novel to English "The World Beyond the Motherland". Dr Khanna is the twice recipient of "The Best Researcher's Award" at LPU in the field of Arts & Languages. Currently, Dr Khanna is working as the Associate Professor at GNA University, and even the supervisor to many research scholars.
A philosophical question for anyone who has an idea. Imagine my hands are a set of scales. In my right hand I hold this crazy little thing called love. You can choose anything you want to place in my left
Mystery within my seizure: Who are you? Who are you? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? I uttered these words during a seizure. Imagining you puts my mind under pressure. Searching for your identity is like a hunt
The pulse seems tranquil and still, But they don’t have blood in it filled. Strange, the brain is at bark within. Why this uneasiness seems like an attaching shark? I do sit and endeavour to settle it down, But for