وجودِ زن سے ہے تصویرِ کائنات میں رنگ

"There are too many women in this world ̶ none of them loved enough."


I started mapping out this content back in January amidst my mind all worked up and my body fidgeting to find a purpose in life. I was reading an endless number of books every day, managing school and work altogether, freaking out about potentially losing the heartfelt excerpt I had written for my mother last year on Mother’s Day (finding it nonetheless). In conclusion, I was overwhelmed. But still, somehow I was pleased with all the hustle.


Women are my most favorite subject. I, as a woman myself, can endorse that we are indeed complex, but we are also more than that. We are the softest creatures to ever exist. Nobody comes close. We not only love, but we also devote ourselves. We heed to the ones we hold close. But, I would rather you not mistake our compassion for weakness. We are just as resilient, if not more. I believe that modernity has failed us. It has failed to show the real, the unconventional, the most profound face of women. Because I have had the honor of growing under the influence of a handful of women. Most of them, exemplary.



First, I will talk about the most obvious one: my mother. She is a homemaker. In other words, she is the most selfless woman I have known. (Though after my Nani, but I will talk about her later). My mother is also strong. She contains in her the essence of warmth as of the first golden glimmer of the sun in the dusk and the firmness of a rooted mountain rock. She is a resilient woman, but it does not make me proud of her. It makes me sad. The hardships that made her this way are the hardships she did not deserve. I have lived my life watching her make countless sacrifices for us, her parents, my father, his parents. I have witnessed her give up her entire career under the inclination to raise her children under her supervision, nurturing us with the best of what the world has to offer. Maybe it was a choice. But it was a firm one. To this day, she stands determined to it, watching us grow into the individuals she aspires us to be. Although, she may feel a bit of resentment inside her heart as she watches her fellow mates achieve the milestones she could have very evidently earned herself. But in no way do I blame her. As a human, she deserves to feel this. She deserves to want to turn back time and do things differently. After all, between being the pillar of our family and the obedient daughter to her parents, she is a whole, separate person with separate goals and dreams.


My mother is not only a good mother, she is an even better friend, a remarkable ear to people, and a beautifully carved human. I have seen her do good and think good - even to the people who did not do