Recently, the CBSE
board exam results were declared. Just like in previous years, girls outshined
boys once again. The headlines praised their performance, families rejoiced,
and hopes soared. Many of these bright young women will pursue professional courses,
while others will choose to follow their passions in diverse fields. A fair
number will land respectable jobs, gain financial independence, and for a
while, it may seem like equality is finally within reach.
And yet, when we look
at the topmost positions in most professions—corporate, academic, political, or
scientific—how many are occupied by women?
Very few.
This irony bothers me
deeply. It’s not because women lack talent, drive, or intelligence. The problem
lies elsewhere—hidden in the undercurrents of societal expectations, familial
pressures, and the fine print of being a woman.
A large number of
women begin their careers with promise, but many drop out of the workforce
around the time of marriage. Some leave willingly, looking forward to a new
chapter. But others are gradually, and sometimes subtly, pushed into quitting.
The reasons vary. Some are expected to relocate for their spouse’s job. Some
are told that the family’s peace depends on their presence at home. Some are
gently reminded that they can’t possibly handle both work and home without
falling short somewhere. And eventually, many do resign. Not because they are
weak, but because they are made to believe inadequate for trying to do it all.
Those who make it past
this stage face another fork in the road, when they choose to start a family.
Motherhood is beautiful, no doubt. But it comes with its own heavy toll on a
woman’s career. Maternity breaks often result in missed promotions, lost
opportunities, and in some cases, complete disconnection from the professional
world.
And even when women
return to work, they do so with a constant undercurrent of guilt. Am I spending
enough time with my child? Am I being too ambitious? Am I being judged? Spending
enough time and being ambitious is debatable but being judges! Sure!
At times, the judgment
is not even external. It creeps in quietly, from within.
I speak not just from
observation, but from personal experience. I’ve lived this ambivalence. My work
has always meant more to me than just financial security. It gave me purpose,
identity, and the satisfaction of contributing to society beyond the walls of
my home. Yet, when the time came for someone in the family to take a step back,
I did. No one asked me to quit. There was no dramatic confrontation. But as one of our team had to do it, I volunteered. It is just that
my better half did not offer. As, if that wasn't a choice at all. It was just silently understood Or so I told
myself.
Yes, that was my choice. I did it willingly.
But I ask, did I truly have a
choice?
There was no extended
support system—no mother, no mother-in-law who could step in long-term. I
couldn’t sabotage another woman’s freedom to salvage my own. And so, I stepped
back. I paused a promising career. I chose family.
Today, when I reflect
on that decision, I do so without resentment but with realism. I am among the
relatively privileged ones. I have a voice in my household. I’m loved,
respected, and included in decisions. My partner tries to help—most of the
time. He adjusts his schedule occasionally, contributes to household chores,
and doesn’t flinch from changing diapers. But is the primary responsibility of
the home ever his? Not quite. The emotional and mental load still lies largely
with me.
And parenting? That’s
an entirely different ballgame. While men may participate physically, the
emotional involvement, the patience to teach, play, and gently guide children; that
seems to be a rare trait among them. Most women are just expected to have it.
Now, as my children
grow, I find myself in yet another phase. A phase where I must prepare them to
take flight, to become independent and responsible citizens. And here again, my
inner conflict rears its head.
Have I, in my
well-intentioned sacrifices, unconsciously set a pattern for them?
I try to raise my son
and daughter equally. I talk about respect, independence, and shared
responsibilities. But haven’t I also shown them that when the time comes, it’s
the woman who compromises? The one who quietly folds away her dreams in the
name of duty?
Values, after all, are
not merely taught. They are caught. And that frightens me.
There are fleeting
moments when a sense of loss catches me off guard. A strange emptiness, a pang
I cannot always name. Those are the times I momentarily dislike being a
woman—not because I don’t cherish who I am, but because I hate the limitations
imposed on me by this world.
And yet, if you ask
me, would I want to be a man in my next life?
A shiver runs down my
spine.
No, I would still
choose to be a woman.
I love being one. I am
kind, compassionate, empathetic, and resilient. I have the ability to nurture,
to listen, to communicate with care. I’m capable of immense strength and silent
courage. I can multitask with grace. I can lead, support, and uplift—all at
once.
Men, too, carry
burdens. They are often not allowed to express their vulnerability. They are
expected to be providers, stoic, and emotionally restrained. That is their
cage. And I haven’t lived in it to fully understand its pain.
This isn’t a war of
the sexes.
It’s a plea for
balance.
Society won’t change
overnight. But change begins with acknowledgement. And empathy. More men are
stepping up. More women are pushing boundaries. Small, everyday efforts are
shaping a better tomorrow. But we still have a long road ahead before gender
equality becomes a lived reality, not just a buzzword.
As for me, I continue
to walk this tightrope between contentment and compromise. I try to find joy in
what I do and meaning in what I gave up. I strive to leave a different legacy
for my children. One where choice isn’t dictated by gender but guided by passion,
purpose, and mutual respect.
Because in the end,
what we model matters more than what we preach.
