The Blue Uniform - a poem on gender discrimination

Gender discrimination is an age old problem that doesn't seem to leave.

My grandfather sold
Some cattle and gold
My mother had no choice
And no more voice

I'm inside, the screen tells
Alive and well
My mother cries
My dad yells

His mother’s eyes swell
His sisters tell
The father blares and
The brother stares

I am lucky
I get born
More tears greet
More heads forlorn

Rampant sex determination
Laws for Tribal protection
Abortion a sensation
I watch in isolation

It is rarely his
Mom’s get cut
Or recanalized
Or easily replaced

Eggs he gets
While I wait
He gets a bat
And I, a pot

I get a uniform
He gets one too
Mine becomes a pad
His for the next grade- A norm

He gets a bike
Also a doctor
If I can walk
I should survive

My father sold
Some cattle and gold
I have no choice
The master’s voice

The photo is from Kalahandi, Odisha, 2019 March. 3 generations picking Mahua flowers. The blue uniform doing household and livelihood chores is a common scene across the country. One will see them carrying babies, pumping water at the hand pump, at wells, public taps and carrying it back AND forth, carrying wood, etc. And oft the brothers are playing in the same space. It is often the only or 1 out of 2 of the only dresses owned. 

About the author:

Vasundhara Rangasamy is a microbiologist and a primary care physician who works in rural areas of the country.