Born out of the womb,
The XX and the XY,
Cry the same, bleed the same,
Bosom fed, nurtured alike,
Only difference is the X & the Y.

Then why is the XX,
Considered the weaker sex,
When for nine months, she carries the XY,
It is she who brings him forth,
Risking her life into the world.

Gender equality and feminism,
Would not have sprung,
Had the foeticide and feticide,
Not been inflicted,
For her to be staked and burned alive.

They say that it was and is the way,
Patriarchy knocked down matriarchy,
The Gods replaced the Goddesses,
Sealed the fate of XX,
Uncertain and lost for eternity.

The XX takes upon herself,
The burden of responsibility,
To produce yet another XY,
Societal norms to uphold patriarchal ego,
Bloodline to continue the lineage and so forth.

When XX takes upon herself,
To carry a family on her shoulders,
She who sweats and bleeds every month,
Fends and mends just like XY does,
Struggle she must just to survive, to live on...

Without her womb,
Humankind is doomed,
Yet they say...
A daughter is someone else's property,
And the family line ends with her.

.    .    .

Note: This poem was penned by the Author sitting in the corridor waiting bench at the Gangtok District Session Court on the 30th day of April 2024, Tuesday. The author feels that besides the hospitals, the Courts are such places where you can observe and feel raw human emotions.