Once upon a time, she was just a girl.
Born in a normal house, raised with simple joys — the smell of hot rice, the sound of bicycles, the
safety of a mother’s lap. She made mistakes. She laughed too loudly. She forgot things. She dreamed of
becoming many things, but never “perfect.”
And yet, somewhere along the way —
after marriage, after stepping into a new life —
the world began whispering:
"Now you must be perfect."
Perfect wife.
Perfect daughter-in-law.
Perfect mother.
Perfect cook, perfect host, perfect smile
My question is — what does “perfect” mean?
Does it mean hiding her tiredness behind a smile?
Does it mean erasing all flaws so she can fit into someone else’s mould?
No one is perfect.
Not the person pointing fingers.
Not the one comparing her to someone else.
Not even the world that demands it.
We are all growing.
All learning.
All fumbling toward grace.
So here she is —
A woman, not a statue.
With a full heart, a weary back, and dreams still alive.
Not perfect, but real.
Not flawless, but whole.
If you, too, feel the weight of expectations, remember this:
🌷 You were never meant to be perfect.
You were meant to be true.
With Love,
Greeshma.

1 comment:
Simple words foreshadow volumes about our culture...inspiring...✨
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