Ease to express my thoughts and feelings through written words came effortlessly since my childhood. Nevertheless, I never took it as seriously as I should have. Realization struck me when I got enough time during pandemic break to ponder about my life-I found that there is one thing I feel like doing at any cost, that is writing. It took me a hell lot of time to understand that it is writing that gives me immense satisfaction and intrinsic happiness. In my last post, I wrote about ikigai and the purpose of life because I realized that awareness of what makes you happy gives you the strength to fight in any situation.
I started my writing journey in December 2020 to express freely about anything and everything I feel like penning down. However, I am still unable to understand why I feel restricted as if I need to pause, wait and edit whatever comes in the mind because I am not sure if one can really speak and express freely. There are a lot of things I don’t agree with or abide by, even if it’s set as a norm of society or what is the stereotypical way of a particular society.
For instance, how girl child is raised differently than boys, how girls are always called to do household chores at home but not the boys, how dowry is still prevalent even though the style has changed-now it is taken in a more sophisticated manner, how a girl is made to lose her identity as if getting married is a crime-first her name is changed-diluting her whole identity, you can’t dress the way you want, you can’t talk the way you want, you can’t even laugh the way you want. All rules are set for a female but for males, everything remains the same except the fact that now he has a partner to share the bed with.
How hush hush is maintained to portray an image of a happy family, how the abuser keeps abusing and the mother lets her child be abused due to fear of society, how the person who rapes roam free and the victim is tortured mentally by the so-called civilized society, how old age parents are thrown out of their own homes to stay in old age homes. Wherever I turn, I find a story of injustice, which needs to be told but I hesitate to do so. What am I afraid of? I don’t know.
People say something-they do something else. I feel as if I am losing my voice amidst this chaos. Why am I afraid to raise my voice when I know that my mind keeps churning such thoughts-thoughts to find why behind all the injustice in society.
I know I need to find my voice and I need to be fearless while looking for answers to all the burning questions. I also know fear creates doubt and doubt can never uplift.
Have you ever felt restricted while writing? Have you ever experienced fear of sharing? Please share your experiences.
Thank you for your time and Patience,