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कुल जमा 42 घुंघरू हैं तुम्हारे दोनों पायलों में...

गिने थे मैंने इत्मीनान पिछली बार तुम्हारे पास बैठे हुए..

Who are we?
The ones who wake up before the sun, step out into the grind, fight battles in silence, and carry the weight of expectations without a sigh. The ones who are told to "man up" before they understand what that even means. The ones who bury their fears, swallow their tears, and wear strength like armor, even when it cuts deep.
Who are we?
The sons who are taught that emotions make us weak, the brothers who must always protect but never falter, the fathers who must provide even when the burden breaks them. The husbands who are expected to be strong, unshaken, unbothered—because isn't that what makes a man?
We are the ones who dream too, but are told to be practical. Who are mocked when we stumble, who are ridiculed when we fail. Who are raised to believe that our worth is measured by how much we can endure, how much we can earn, how much we can give without ever asking for anything in return.
And tell me, world—why do we carry our struggles in silence, unseen and unheard? Why is our pain invisible? Why does no one ask us if we're okay? Why do we break inside but must still hold it together? Why does vulnerability make us "less of a man"? Why do we spend our lives proving our worth, yet are told we are "privileged" simply for existing?
Why are our dreams dismissed when they don't fit the mold? Why is our love measured only in what we provide? Why are we expected to be protectors but never protected? Why are we judged not by who we are but by what we can offer?
Yes, she is a revolution. But so are we. Not every man is an enemy, and not every woman is oppressed. We are not just "someone's" son, brother, husband, or father—we are our own people, too. And this time, on Women's Day, let’s not divide, but stand together. Let’s not compete in pain, but heal together. Because true equality is not about proving who suffers more. It is about ensuring that no one has to suffer at all.

Who are uh?
The one who wakes up before everyone else, lights the stove, fills everyone's stomach, nd forgets herself in the process.
The one who steps into the office, braves the crowd, faces the stares, swallows the fear nd forgets even her share of sunlight.

Who are uh?
The one whose laughter is called 'too loud', whose silence is called 'too proud'.
The one who dreams, but only in whispers, bcze dreams too big can shake the world's comfort.

Uh re the mother who sacrifices sleep, the daughter who carries unspoken expectations, the wife who bends till she breaks, the sister who stands like a shield.
Uh are the woman who forgives, again nd again - bcze isn't that what they taught uh? To let go, to adjust, to move on?
Uh re the one who wears a smile even when her heart is a battlefield, who hides her tears bcze "strong women don't cry", who stitches her wounds with silence.

But tell me, world, why does she still walk home at night with keys clutched between her fingers?
Why does she have to think thrice before wearing what she wants?
Why is her 'no' still taken as a 'maybe'?
Why does justice come late - if it comes at all?
Why do candles burn in her memory, but the world moves in before the wax melts?
Why do laws exist only in words while hands still roam where they shouldn't?
Why is her freedom always a privilege, never a right?

She loves, she gives, she heals - how effortlessly she pours herself into others.
She holds broken pieces of people like they re made of glass, while she herself is shattered porcelain.
She is breathtaking in love, fierce in loyalty, boundless in emotion.

Yet, she is asked -
"Why re uh so sensitive?"
"Why re uh so loud?"
"Why re uh so ambitious?"
"Why re uh so demanding?"
But never - "are uh happy?"

And this time, on women's day, don't just wish her.
Give her the space to exist beyond expectations.
Give her a world where she doesn't have to fight for basic respect.
Give her a world where she doesn't need to be strong just to survive.
Give her a world where she is not just "someone's" daughter, sister, wife or mother -
But her own person.

Bcze she is not just a woman, she is a revolution.

हां नहीं तो🙂🙂

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जहां किरदार हल्का हो कहानी डूब जाती है...☹️


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