It's a great feeling seeing my daughter blossom into this young
woman - now all grown up and about to graduate. What do I say about my
daughter, she is of course the apple of our eyes. Thinking of her takes me back
to the time when she was born. She took her time alright ... was overdue by
almost two weeks and even in the hospital came at her own pace - not one to be
hurried up. As a newborn she was totally angelic no keeping us awake at night
or being cranky - she was this perfect kid who did all the right things and
made life very easy for us, living as we were far away from family.
Growing up she was a very self-possessed child and even as a two
year old knew exactly what she wanted, would pick out her own clothes to wear
... seldom the one that I wanted her to wear - I always complain to her that
she never gave me a chance to dress her up in girly stuff- to my chagrin she
never took to wearing frocks. She was a handful when it came to fighting
for her equal but fair chance - be it her turn to sit in the front seat or the
right to go second for a bath on a holiday or even her shot to control the TV
remote. I took pride in her assertiveness, her independence and her feistiness.
Much as we educated Indians tend to believe that we give our
daughter's an equal treatment at home - believe it or not, nothing could be far
from truth. As she grew, I heard this often from my sis in law ... rein her
'she's a girl', I saw others giving less opportunity to daughters than to sons,
in closed doors you heard -it’s all very well , that boys and girls are equal -
the girl has to but get married. Such double standards ... I
blissfully ignored this utter nonsense.
It was my endeavor to make sure that she lived her life on her own
terms, even the mundane and minutiae was HER CHOICE ... she did what she wanted
to, getting her hair done the way she wanted, taking up social causes like her
fad to campaign against drugs or standing up for rights of LGBTs ... what
interested her she took up, what boys she had for friends, partying late,
having her first alcoholic drink - she is herself ... uninhibited, self-assured,
confident, part bohemian, non-judgmental ... not what exactly most women
are allowed to be, in the constrained, near stifling Indian ethos which is
colored and run by men.
I don't know what the future has in store for her, what
brickbats or plaudits come her way, but what I am absolutely certain about her is that she
would be this amazing woman who would live her life with chutzpah and more importantly, a whole lot of self-worth.
Now she is this young girl, the darling of the family. A very
loving and caring sister (loves to buy things for her brother) - they are siblings in arms. Like any daughter, very indulgent towards her
father - will not listen to anything against him. Her mother (and too a little
lesser extent her father) is her punching bag ... somebody she can say whatever
comes to her mind. She often jokes that no guy will measure up to my standards
- which just might be true (to love as wholeheartedly and selflessly as parents
do, is indeed a tall order). She fights me on trivial and not so trivial
issues, gets real mad but then she makes up very quickly too.
Now as she stands on the cusp of adulthood, I see this poised
young woman who has wings and wants to fly and it gives me a lot of contentment
that this child of mine has grown into an independent thinking, free spirited
young girl who speaks her mind and can stand up for herself.
This classic sonnet captures my daughter's vim and vigor, her persona beautifully !
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Maya Angelou
This classic sonnet captures my daughter's vim and vigor, her persona beautifully !
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Maya Angelou
