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How is age measured? Is it the barely-heard tick-tock of your sparingly used Fitbit, Or the obvious streak of gray that you got for free?
How is age measured?
Is it the barely-heard tick-tock
of your sparingly used Fitbit,
Or the obvious streak of gray
that you got for free?
Is it the invisibility cloak
that lets you see
caprices of the men
who once fawned over you?
Is it seeing all those babies you held
Now grown-up and glued to TikTok?
Or the folded sarees in your wardrobe,
precious moments gathered in their folds?
Older, none the wiser,
Age admits her defeat,
Her hands up in despair,
At the likes of me.
Am I on the wheel of time
Or watching it from afar?
Because, you know,
Frames of reference.
8-year-old heart,
or 22-year-old dreams?
40 years old regrets,
or decades of people-pleasing?
And 60 years (or so it seems!)
Of making stupid decisions!
Tell me again.
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Vaidehi is a teacher and mentor who is extremely passionate about pedagogy, writing and the arts. read more...
This post has published with none or minimal editorial intervention. Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, individual posts do not necessarily represent the platform's views and opinions at all times.
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