Amitabh Vikram Dwivedi
I was born as a human.
But defined as a woman.
Actually, I was same as others,
And never was man’s other.
Culture somewhere conspired it seems,
And marginalized me as
The other half.
Literature too supported this scheme,
And glorified my existence as a mystery.
It faked to solve my existence:
Sometimes how I think and talk
At times how I look and walk.
An upshot soon summed up the verdict:
That woman is an unsolved mystery.
The other indicators soon began to disappear.
I was no more human and woman.
But only considered as
The mysterious other half.