I wake up in the morning. I set alarms for 6 AM, but I usually wake up around 7:00 AM. The first person I see is my mother.
She wakes up at 6, or maybe even earlier. She washes up, performs the daily Devpooja (rituals and temple cleaning), and before that, she has already cleaned the house, swept the front yard, filled the water tank, watered the plants, made some chapatis, and started cooking.
By the time I see her, all of this is already done—every single day. Except on Mondays. On that day, she allows herself to wake up at 6:30.
I have seen this routine for years.
At night, the same tasks repeat.
My mother has a sister. She, too, wakes up early, cooks breakfast and lunch for her husband, kids, and in-laws, and then leaves for work. She runs her own garment shop. At around 8 PM, she returns, cooks dinner for everyone, washes the dishes, and then sleeps—only to repeat the same cycle the next day.
And while these women work tirelessly, their husbands remain seated in one corner of the house, expecting every need and want to be fulfilled. Without moving, without asking—just a call, and their wives will do it.
- Want hot water for a bath? Done.
- Want fresh clothes after the bath? Done.
- Want something different and tasty to eat? Done.
- Want breakfast? Done.
- Want morning tea? Done.
- Want your clothes ironed? Done.
- Want your tiffin packed before work? Done.
Say it, and she’ll bring it to you.
Sometimes, you don’t even have to ask.
And if she hesitates, if she’s occupied with something else, if she gets frustrated—she is the one at fault. If she doesn’t listen, complain to her parents. If she doesn’t ask for permission, cancel her plans.
I have seen these two women closer than I have seen anyone else.
They say, this is how it is. And I am being rude for saying that it feels wrong.
But it does feel wrong.
It feels wrong to do everything for someone without support or recognition.
It feels wrong to always be the supporting character.
It feels wrong to accept that you are less than your partner.
It feels wrong to always be at service.
And above all, it feels exhausting.
When I question it, I get scolded by these very women.
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“It’s rude.”
“So what if we give them what they want?”
“If they scold us, maybe we did something wrong.”
“It’s okay. It’s fine. This is what being a woman means.”
“Sometimes, you have to stay silent to avoid conflict—for peace in the family.”
So what?
It is so, so difficult to explain. Not just because they won’t understand, but because even trying is draining, disappointing, and exhausting.
Personally, I feel a heavy weight in my throat, my nose, my shoulders, my knuckles, my fingers—just listening to this. I feel anger, sadness, and helplessness.
Anger—that they don’t know their worth.
Sadness—that I have to keep explaining something so obvious.
Fear—of being trapped in the same reality.
Helplessness—for all of the above.
Still, I need to speak. I will. I have to.
I will keep saying it—to them, to others, to those who have forgotten to be themselves.
It is a blessing to be a woman. But if this is womanhood, then I will define my own.
I will become that woman.
The woman I choose to be.