Oct 7, 2009


She looked into the mirror and saw what the rest of the world saw her as. She was a victim and the scars and bruises were a proof of this. Her eyes gave her away. The once playful and vivacious eyes now looked down at the ground, shooting suspicious glares at passersby on the road. The same people who had had the option of helping her on hearing her cries and screams. Instead, they chose to turn a deaf ear to the screams or worse, play the role of onlookers. She looked away from the mirror in the shop and continued walking.

She stopped in front of the police station but found herself unable to go in and lodge a complaint. She knew that all those who were in there to ‘protect society’ were men. Men like the ones she had tried to push off herself as they lunged themselves onto her. Men who had no respect for their own mothers and sisters. Men who had lust in their eyes. She walked to the nearest pharmacy and considered buying tablets that could spare her parents the disgrace that they would have to face if she went home. Instead, she bought herself a pack of Band-Aids and tried concealing the bruises that were visible to the public eye.

The pain was far from receding now and she yearned to have a roof over her head-a familiar space without strange invaders of her privacy and body. A home to feel love once more. Just the emotion. Nothing physical.

She walked all the way home, without stopping to rest, choosing the harder option of bearing the pain rather than seeking help. She turned the key and entered the hall. She could hear her parents in their room. She walked past it and went to her room, locking the door behind her. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag. It hurt her. She took off her dirty clothes and walked towards her cupboard to take out her nightdress.

She saw herself in the mirror and began to cry. She could no longer face herself .She felt a loss of identity. She backed away from her cupboard in haste. She was scared and disgusted. She threw her phone at the mirror with all her pent up hatred vented into that throw. The glass shattered and she collapsed onto her bed, crying.

Oct 2, 2009

On his blindness

He walked the road with the cane in one hand
He got pushed down and struggled to stand again.
The world could only jeer and dissuade
The gift of sight taken, bearing double the weight.

Blissful Oblivion?

A carefree oblivion to the incident.
Too young, too naive to understand the intensity.
A believer of the tall tales told to her
A cover up of the brute reality.
Now, of a knowledgeable age is she.
Aware of the once oblivious times.
Aware of the owner of the room she stays in.
Aware of the house that never became a home.
Aware of the detachment she had from them.
Yet, unaware of who gave her the life she now leads.