Got a moment to speak to a colleague; just a few words they were, but they allowed me a deep look into her heart. She didn’t have a tone of victimhood; she didn’t have an attitude of submission. There was power in her words. Her life was a piece of art which she had created with colours of situations and circumstances thrown at her.
It made me wonder if a majority of women faced a similar crunch of choice. Did they build their identities of self-respect in the midst of disrespect? To achieve peace one didn’t always have to climb a mountain or walk into wilderness. The work field of peace was life: a crowded public bus, an overflowing train compartment, a greedy mall stop-over, or the early morning news of warring countries.
As I saw her smile, I knew she was victorious. She had achieved triumph over unpleasantness. She had learnt to be devoted to people who didn’t have the capacity to love her enough.
This was nowhere near self pity; it was self empowerment.
Image courtesy: Google
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