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He came home at twelve that night.  I opened the door and served him dinner. While he ate,  I stayed there, just in case he needed water or some extra beans.  We didn't talk. He didn't ask 'Why are you up so late?' The only sound breaking the silence was the spoon clicking against his plate. Later, I would sleep only to find him gone the next morning.  This had been my daily routine for I was his spouse,  living as a stranger in his house. 
But something different happened that night. He moved and lay right next to me;  flung his arms around my waist  and kissed my neck. I shrugged and  tried to wriggle out of his tight embrace. 'No, I am tired', I whispered. It didn't matter for he was tired too;  in need of some leisure  and so my body for him was a pleasure.
I shared with my family and they laughed it off.  Some said 'You are young, married and a beauty' while some told that it's my duty. I filed for divorce, but a counsellor was appointed w…


It was hard to leave that place. Where I steadily grew, where I danced and swirled,  where freedom had the sweetest taste.  But, I had to of course. They pushed and I squirmed out, finally said goodbye to my mother's womb.  As the nurse held me, those wrinkles on her forehead and a straight line  on her lips, couldn't tell me what was she sad about? Did I pee on her? My confusion solved soon when some terrible words  were served to my mother. 'Apologies. It's a BLACK girl'
I was thirteen and I remember my crazy love for aircrafts. Dreaming of flight attendants, how passionately I imitated actions  emergency exits, seat belts and oxygen masks. You said 'Shh shh sh..'. Do you remember? You said 'Beauty works here and you are not beautiful' Shushed my actions, my dreams and now they are lost somewhere in the dark, darker than my skin. 
In the late teens, I wanted to taste love. What is it like- sweet, sour or bitter? While boys roamed holding those fair-skinned creamy han…


She wore loose jeans, a kurta, stepped out and sauntered in the dark with her veiled body, hair tied,  no makeup and nothing to seduce.
Still, it happened! What was her fault?  That the poor soul was a 'She'? Or that she left at night and tried to befriend darkness?
The world saw her bleak scars and ripped heart. To bring justice, everyone was with her  but, it seemed only air craved to touch her. 
On her skin which she wore all the time, they wrote 'used' and 'impure' as if  it could burn and born again.
How strange it is! For the rapists are out there, free and invincible and she is confined, punished for being  a beauty that every woman is.




Like the wind which blows violently, I can see you rushing. What is your destination? Maybe, even you don't know!  Chasing wildly the money and fame clad in ecstasy, it seems even death won't stop you. But, Stop! I insist. 💓 Pause and feel the euphoric rains. For each drop, like the elixir of life absorbs the pain.  And when the new day dawns, listen to the quiet, blushing sun as it makes love with the placid sky.  💓 For once, soak yourself in poetry to learn how warm words can be. Reminisce your happy moments in solitude.  As it has its own euphony; its own nostalgia. 💓 I want to see you live like the somnolent sea; still and clam, amidst the chaos.  I want you to live here- in this moment. You will not wander. You will not rush. Promise me?