Missing Poem by Madhu Smita

I have a life that is as close to perfect
As it can get
I have strived to do my bit to create this perfect life
A devoted bahu, a caring mother, a loving wife
Accepting all the taboos put on me, never saying a word, letting escape a sigh
I moulded myself to fit into my beloved's concept of wife, mother, bahu…

I would have loved to write lover
But marriage made him my husband …
We were no longer lovers
He was my master, my owner
And I his property,
my body his to use
My emotions his to stunt
My expressions his to curb
The man I loved became a son and a brother
The man who said my respect was his respected me no more

And in this process… somewhere I lost me
these days I have been missing myself