Zenana.. ( Part of the house/ palace where women were confined to)

Why does this city linger, in my unremembered dreams,
Not for its mahals, forts or finery
But for women
who raised them all – Maharajas, rajputs and craftsmen..

Their zenanas, , their loneliness
forever a royal,
Forever living it’s ways,
Forever, knowing their promised predicament
Forever, not knowing the wonders of the world..

The magnanimity of it all,
To be part princess, part prisoner,
Partly loved and partly not,
And one wonders what do riches mean, if one isn’t free?

But given a choice, wouldn’t we all give it our all,
to protect our own rightful imprisonment?

Published by Anju Dinesh

A writer is how I would love to have myself defined as. Who makes a lot of typos though. Thank God for all these apps that has come to my rescue. Probably not a very good one or successful one at that yet. But someone who did make an effort. Although I finish most of my articles in a haste every single time. And constantly worries if the piece is worth it or not.. Hasn't grown out of the cocoon yet. Hopes to one day write something for myself and not worry of being judged. Because invariably I write about things that makes it easy for the readers to judge to me. Yes I am hopelessly prejudiced about my writing and choice of topics. Goes low on self esteem more than often although I vaguely know that there is something about my writing that can probably strike a chord someday only if I tried a lot harder. Never works too hard. Never works too less. That Never been part of my system. Which means I always play the safe game.I hope to someday break out to that realm of fictitious world where my imagination will stay raw and free, my flow of words be effortless and there would be nothing around me that can stop me or bind me there. Oh Yes! I want to get there.

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