Shhh... She is WOMAN

"या देवी सर्वभूतेषु शक्ति-रूपेण संस्थिता।
नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमो नमः।।"

She is in every woman. In her strength, in her struggles, in her silent endurance.
She exists in the fire that destroys injustice, in the love that nurtures life,
In the courage that stands unshaken, and in the pain she carries with grace.

Woman!!! What does it mean to be a woman?
Is it the softness in her touch or the storm in her soul?
Is it the quiet sacrifices she makes or the battles she fights without a sword?

Being a woman still surprises me—the way women are built, the way women endure, the way women rise even when the world tries to push them down.
We are taught to be strong but not too strong, bold but not too loud.
And yet, history tells a different story.

The earth itself is called Mother Earth—why?
Because she nurtures, she gives, she creates.
Then why do we question the power of a woman when she is the very foundation of life?

We often hear—
"Why are there so many poems, shayaris, and songs about women, but none about men?"
Maybe because womanhood cannot be contained in mere words.
Maybe because no poem, no song, no language can ever do justice to what it means to be a woman.

A pregnant woman carries life within her, yet she carries the pain of death.
She walks with agony in her bones, yet she moves with grace.
Her body is torn apart, yet she holds the child like the most precious gift.
She is the only one who faces death and life at the same time,
And still, she is told—she is just a woman.

She is a mother who can die for her child,
A mother who can kill for her child.
She is a wife who can stand before Yamraj, the god of death,
And demand her husband’s life back, like Savitri did.
She is a woman who can set fire to a kingdom for her self-respect,
Like Draupadi, who did not cry but made the world bow before her wrath.

Rani Chennamma didn’t hesitate to fight against oppression.
Rani Lakshmibai rode into battle with her child strapped to her back.
Vanake Obavva stood alone, weapon in hand, defending her people.
Are these the tales of weakness? Or are these the echoes of a strength the world fears?

We worship goddesses in different forms—
Durga, the warrior.
Lakshmi, the provider.
Saraswati, the wisdom.
Why do we bow before them but hesitate to respect the women beside us?

They say men build nations, but who builds men?
They say men lead, but who teaches them to walk?
They say power is in force, but why do they seek refuge in a mother’s arms?

But being a woman is not just strength—it is also fear.
It is the scariest, most vulnerable existence, always under that stare, that touch, that gaze.
It is walking home at dusk, hearing footsteps behind you, holding your breath, hoping they pass. It is the stare that lingers too long, and sometimes, it is more than a stare.
It is a touch that never leaves.
Fingers that once gripped a wrist, yet the hold never loosened in the mind.
A hand that pressed against skin, But the imprint stayed long after it was gone. As if scrubbing could erase it, as if peeling the skin could make it new again. But some touches don’t fade. They bury themselves in the body, they carve themselves into the soul.

It is living in a world where power does not shield her—it hunts her.
And yet, despite it all, she survives.
She walks, she fights, she dares to live—boldly, unapologetically.

She is expected to sacrifice, to give, to bend—but never to break.
She is told she is just a woman, but what is just about her?

She is the fire and the rain, the creator and the warrior.
She is chaos and calm, poetry and power, love and rebellion.
She is the wound and the healer, silence and the scream, force and the refuge.
She is everything the world could never be without.

So why wish to be a man—
When being a woman means being limitless?

Thank You, Have a great day

-N.N