After having heard about Eve Ensler's celebrated play, The Vagina Monologues, I finally got to see it -- performed by Mahabanoo Modi Kotwani and her team of actors.
Four women talking about other women and their stories from the world over. The rapes of Bosnian women. A 72-year-old Parsi woman, shamed for the orgasm she never really had. And somewhere between watching that play and starting this blog, the realisation that the stories sound the same. Sound real.
I am not at all confident about this liberated, knows-her-mind, ball-breaking, board-moving, super-all-rounder creature that the 21st century woman is supposed to be. That I am supposed to be. Or am some of those things. Or I was...
A broken heart, broken spirit and broken body later: I really don't know. Am I emancipated? Finding myself, finding my Eve, finding my vagina. Literally and figuratively. Go figure.
I am, therefore I start...
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