the world settled on my shoulder like a thin layer of dust settles on the bedsheet. i was fixing my make up imperatively, i wished i was more pleasant. i tried to meet my eyes and straighten my personality as i laid my edges down flat. then i finally saw the person i never thought i would become.
"your hair is so gorgeous rapunzel."
my mom's words punched me in the gut while i was busy watching my ugly silhouette 'no mom it ain't gorgeous anymore.' i smoothed out all the ruptures in my crystal clear fake smile. i discerned i was on the edge of tomorrow and at the beginning of denial. i pondered on, when did it all started. was it when i accidentally bumped into them? or was it when i said i was sorry? or when i dared to look into their eyes?
no matter how much i rammed my brains to come up with an answer nothing was valid enough to justify why was i being tortured like some animal in a circus. i ran my hands on my face, slowly moving my fingers over my contused cheekbones.
"just shut up and do it, lick my shoe, you bitch."
i yanked my hair violently just to brush away my insecurities. i wanted to figure out how to stop it so perilously. was it because i was an easy target? or because i was a fragile porcelain doll? or because the world hated me so it dropped me in nihility everytime i wanted to move on? whatever the reason(s) were i just wanted to know, why me. my heart swallowed wholly the phantom of their aggression and annoyance.
"your hair looks pretty long, want us to give you a cool haircut?"
they dug their nails deeper into my skull, they dug them so deep that my skin bled. right there in front of my eyes and there was no shock left in my system. that year they left me completely numb. now all i had was this vague tightness in my chest. i could fix my make up. but i couldn't fix whatever was the cost. so i always tried to look my best when i was at my worst. in the attempt to feel better.
'no' how tenacious it is to speak it out aloud? out of hundreds of millions of people there are hundreds of zillions of lies. deep down i was well aware that they painted me in their colours. i knew that they were the true artists and i was the most sane.
////There are thirteen provisions of the IPC (Indian Penal Code) which can be used by a fresher who is being ragged to register an FIR (First Information Report) in the police station under whose jurisdiction-area the crime has taken place.////
no, you did not choose to live like this. so speak up.
The tiny droplets of rain Drizzling from the boundless clouds The dark gargantuan cryptic clouds Camoflauge with the calignous sky The enigmatic sky resembled Dark memories Which existed in infinitesimal fragments
The drips of heavenly driblets Falling on the earth as shining pearls Caressed the face stained with tears And washed the agony in the soul
The flash of lightning shoot across the sky When the thunder roared with full passion The flashing inscrutable thunderclouds Concealed the echoes of the voice Which existed as shards of lines
The unfavorable weather favoured the indistinct thoughts The thoughts which held the darkest phase of life The soulful rustic breeze caressed the skin Hiding the million stories behind ~•~•~•~•~•~••~•~•~•~~~••~•~•~•~•~••~•~••~•~•~•~•~••~•~•~•~•~•~••~•~•~•~•~•~•••~•~•|~•~•~•~•~••|~•~•~•~••~•~•~•~•~•~••~•~•