A DAY TO BREATHE.

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The dawn has arrived; her battle starts anew as hours pass that mock her endless fight,

House of chaos awaits—its walls demand that she do chores through the day and night,

No time for her to dream, no path she dared pursue beyond the script of duties carved in stone,

Her labor stretches far beyond its end—a life defined by burdens not her own.

The pots and pans, her symphony of strife, clang like stinging metal, as her dreams begin to fray,

Her office desk, a grind that takes its toll, etches her worth in endless ledgers, cold and gray.

Her world is built on sacrifice and strife—a fortress desolate where joy has slipped away,

Yet none will ask what fractures, what cracks have spread beneath her practiced smile.

"Rest?" they sneer—how dare she voice her need, as if her breath were theft from others’ time?

How dare she pause or let the burden fall when men decree her purpose is to climb?

For men may claim their peace without a plea—their ease is viewed as a hallowed right,

But women’s rest is judged, denied by all—a sin for which she’s shamed into the night.

He can relax while praises fill the air, atop his head a crown, his slumber never once questioned,

His worth always intact, his right to ease assumed— no chains, no guilt, nothing of him demanded.

But should she take a pause, they scorn her as unfair and crush her dreams beneath their harsh words,

Their tongues, blades that carve her worth to dust—a martyr made to serve each of her family’s needs.

Will this weight ever be shared, a balance ever struck? When will her rest not spark a cruel debate?

For every sigh she swallows, a fire is bound—a storm that brews behind her soul’s garden gate.

The world will crumble unless it hears her sound—a roar that shakes the pillars of the nation:

A woman’s right to rest is not a plea; it is a demand. A Day to Breathe is not a want; it’s a realization.

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Poet’s Note: This poem is not a cry for justice; it is a mirror being held up to the relentless battles faced by women who, as we know, are still to this very day, shackled under the weight of societal expectations and ironically denied the fundamental right to rest. The following verses highlight the crushing weight of heavily gendered expectations, where a woman’s life is measured by her ability to serve, sacrifice, and endure endless suppression. Be reminded that this is not just about household chores or professional burdens; it is about the targeted oppression that denies a woman her right to dream, her right to peace, and her right to breathe.

I ask you this question, dear reader: Why is it that when a woman rests or allows herself to take a day to breathe, it is immediately considered indulgence, even condemned, when on the other side, a man’s rest is viewed as something to be hallowed? Why do we still glorify a woman’s suffering while conveniently choosing to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to her voice?

Let this poem be a wake-up call in the souls of those who read it; let it be a reminder once again that change can begin only with acknowledgment and then action. Finally, a woman’s right to rest, a day to breathe, is not something to be made negotiable; it is as essential a part of her existence as that of a male counterpart. To deny this right to Rest is to deny her humanity. WRITTEN BY, R. MAHIMA RAM