SOP- Smera Sharma

Tough times make tough people, but what if you never want the tough times
to end? What if you want to become tougher? Where does one draw the
line? Nowhere, if you ask me.

Born to the velvet glove, raised by the iron fist. My social status remains
confined to the paradigm of being a daughter of the Indian army. Despite
having to follow my country's patriarchal norms, the army provided me with
true exposure to life- allowing me to walk with a sense of pride, knowing the
values of discipline and adroitness.

A different school, a different city and a different people, one question has
always remained the same, "Where are you from?" And every time a sense of
powerlessness takes over when I try to form a definitive answer- perpetual
motion, away from a civilian's peace. One cannot realise how many lives I've
left behind.

It is true that you can reform your image every 3 years, but what one does
not notice is that you lose yourself in each new 'home'. Sometimes I can't
remember who 'Smera' is, is she an abstract idea, perceived by whomsoever
she's around or does she carry an actual identity? Am I entitled to this
colloquial sense of pride when I previously couldn't decipher my own
identity?

Every posting brought limited prospects. The terms sexism and male
chauvinism are societal standards that I was to adhere to and not rebel
against, even made to accept them when I learnt my own grandparents,
my dada-dadi would have rather me killed: a liability so foul, they suggested
my parents commit infanticide.

A deep-faceted hatred within my blood, my worth disparaged to a mere

dowry of two-hundred thousand rupees minutes after I was born. The slightest
chance of me receiving a proper education disgusted them.

A staunch patriot, I love my country for all its vibrant yet solemn flavours yet, it
continues to disappoint me. With systems like that of reservation- initially
enforced to bring forth equality- have done anything but and just serve as
another failed system that bases its judgement on what I was born as rather
than what I make of myself.

Realising my potential had been determined the moment I was born, I felt a
surge of helplessness come over me. Not one to wither, I did not want these
misaligned feelings to forge my character. I would never wallow in self-pity, I
wanted to re-institute this newfound sentiment towards something positive
and leave an imprint before my selfish goals. Witnessing my emotions
actualize, my mother introduced me to AWWA a few years ago.
The Army Wives Welfare Association. My initial engagement with them was in
their efforts to ensure the welfare of troops away from home- be it through
providing their families with assistance from the rehabilitation of war-widows
to orphaned children alike. My duties lied in aiding women at the grass-root
level- by lecturing them and organizing seminars on economic and financial
independence- subjects I was well learned in. Concepts such as online
banking, current government financial schemes and vocational skills were
focal points of my seminars directly proportional to the 'Digital India'
Campaign: an initiative started by the Indian government.

I had finally found an outlet to not only prove my worth but help other
women through my academic passions of Economics and Business. I had
tapped a learning barrel that excites me every day to do more than I could
the previous. Encouraging not only myself to aim higher than I was told I
could reach, but other young girls too.

From a dedication stronger than any gender barrier to redirecting misguided

emotions- the anger, resentment and sadness that had followed me for years
was substituted by learning, educating and helping like-minded women who
wanted to become more than just their gender. Will they? Will I?