Life in a box or boxed life??

The title might seem like a paradox but imagine someone living a paradoxical life, a paradox devoid of meanings, or meanings if there are any denoting only remoteness, or barrenness at other times.

No one wants to talk about the life that women live, and if someone in some cases eventually learns to talk about it, they naturally get offensive, they are naturally on guard as if they have a sacred oath to defend, a duty to teach lesson, a responsibility to amend the majority portion of their society.

Or if a woman is seen talking about her rights, or about lives of her fellow women she is instantly rendered the title of foolish and impractical and anti-men. No one wants to see the other side of the picture where this hatred towards men and society, in general, is taught in a very mechanical way.

It is not fair to call it foolish abruptly for no women was born foolish, they were taught this hatred even if its burden was sometimes too much to carry for themselves. Very early in their childhood when they are thought as less human because they were born a girl, not out of choice, lays foundations for the very easily called ‘foolish behaviour’. They growing up seeing their brothers or other men around cherished and in their little minds, they try to make sense of where did they go wrong to deserve this. From that age, they somehow learn to create a fantasy world for themselves, where they keep telling themselves that someday it is going to be okay, that someday they’ll be as special to someone as their brothers and uncles and husbands and everyone from the opposite gender is.

Time goes on and every time they are made to feel vulnerable, every time they are told that their dreams have less value for they are born in a less privileged group, or when one day they are told that they are not allowed to dream anymore because they have just crossed a boundary in age after which they can’t be human anymore.

From now on they will be enrolled in a new course, a course where they’ll be taught to live for another gender serving egos, first in their own house, then in another house when someone will buy their life rights for a petty amount.

In all such times, these girls, these to be women, keep their flickering fantasy alive, they still – deep in their hearts- believe this world to be wrong and their fantasy world where they’ll be treated human to be right. They keep on playing this game, bargaining for little gains in life- some of these acts are named foolish later on.

But then someday their life, their picture of one right world, their fantasy, their keeper of dreams is shattered, and it keeps deteriorating every time a younger brother scolds them or tells them what is right and how they should be following his orders, every time a husband beats them just because they didn’t fulfill the certain idea of right in his mind, every time she looks at things taking shape, reality shaping itself into a gruesome object, opening as an undefined extract idea where a girl is by default into a box; her life merely defined by the confines.

And their dreams sway along with the swaying opinions of society. Dreams and emotions sway as they are shifted from one box to another, each time giving away a part of themselves.

How do you then think that surviving under the fantasy blanket, which is exploited and tossed and turned, is foolish when you helped them shape them all the while.

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