THE IRONY OF A MODERN MUMBAI WOMAN

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I wear what I like, I go where I want.

I am a modern Mumbai woman; no less than a man

 

I don’t care about what the neighbours say,

I ignore when boys down the road catcall,

I am a headstrong Mumbai woman… no less than a man

 

I choose not to spend life milling round the kitchen

I am at peace jostling shoulders in a crowded train

I am at home within the four walls of my office

I am happy arguing to prove a point

I am an independent Mumbai woman; no less than a man

 

I don’t take my husband’s surname

His chai is not my cup of tea

I am too busy charting my own course,

I am an ambitious Mumbai woman; no less than her husband

 

I take home a fair salary, fat enough to fund my Friday night escapades

I think nothing of going clubbing with a gang of girls; or boys

I think nothing of hailing a rickshaw alone in the thick of the night

As long as I don’t tumble down some gutter, I also think nothing of getting high with all my might

Yes, I am a free-spirited Mumbai woman; no less than a man

 

I think nothing of ogling at hot men, I find flirting harmless

I find virginity over-rated; pre & extra-marital sex as a talking points seem so passé,

Yes I am hedonistic; Yes I unabashedly stake claim at the pleasures of life

Because I am a self-made Mumbai woman… no less than a man

 

Then one morning I open the papers…

And there’s a woman at least eight years junior, who too had set out to claim her share of life

Name, fame, dreams and ambition; all things she thought she deserved

Because she too was a modern Mumbai woman; no less than a man

 

Little did she know, modern she was, but a woman.

Little did I realize, they’d much rather keep the woman but her free-spirit.

 

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