She was the pride of her parents- the girl who was at the top of her class, towered above dreams and overcame boundaries with her books. Her degrees were not mere pieces of paper, but silent commitments to the future, of independence, of contribution, of identity. She did not study in order to get a good marriage. She learned to live good-- to have a line, to construct something of her own.
Then came marriage....!!!!
It was a new chapter, they said, a new beginning. And she walked into it with hope in the eyes and strength in her heart. She was not simple. She was aware of the change in responsibilities. No one informed her how her name would begin to recede in the background behind those labels like bahu, wife, or mummy.
There were earlier mornings. Dreams came later,--in some cases not at all. What she used to argue about the world problems; she argued about what to cook. Silence was flattered where there used to be respect to her opinions. Yes, she was educated but now she had to adjust. The society also tests the sacrifice of the educated women since they do not get rewarded for their wisdom.
She attempted to get a balance. She made an effort to work. On other days, she managed to do so. On other days, she was ridden with guilt—about leaving a child to a nanny, about not spending enough time at home. It was not the failure of her degree. It was a world that was not ready to take the fact that a woman was a woman who could be ambitious and nurturing as well.
However, she was able to cope.
She was taught to be a silent leader, a multi-tasker of unseen genius running homes as business. She did not lose her intelligence. It just changed, it turned into patience, into power, into leadership in silence. The schooling was her armour not to be applauded but to save her ass on losing her identity.
But there are times, in the still of night, that she opens that drawer - the one where her certificates still are. She touches them with her fingers, not as a regrettable thing, but another memory. She continues to have faith in herself. She does not give up hoping; she still has dreams, perhaps not so large and not so soon, but not dead. And gradually she gets up. She discovers new modes of doing things, working online, becoming a local leader, teaching, creating something, anything that makes her soul have a name once again. Not only Mrs. Someone, but her.
She might not always sit at a desk in an office tower, and yet, she creates empires of compassion, strength, and silent endurance day by day. She is educated. She is in marriage. And she is not done.
The life of a learned woman into marriage is not usually the story of a quiet strength, unnoticed sacrifice and unacknowledged perseverance. Her education is not wasted, it exists in the way she brings up a family, goes about her life and keeps on dreaming in the shadows. She can stop but she does not quit. Society can attempt to redefine her but in the quietest way she finds a way to redefine herself, bit by bit, role by role.
Behind each tea she serves, each child she raises, and each compromise she makes, there is a woman who did not fear to dream once- and never did. It is not the end of her story. It is simply happening in another language, the language the courageous can understand.
We should not bury her genius in responsibilities. Why not leave her room to star, again and still and always. Since, when a woman is educated and empowered, not only in classrooms but also in her life after getting married, the entire generation will emerge with her.
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