• ink_and_solitude 10w

    The Lady in Red

    Out in the dark summer night,
    On a lit up street with rushing cars,
    Stands a lady in a red saree.
    She's quite beautiful.
    Wearing heavy lipstick of the same shade,
    A wonderfully drawn liner,
    And wrists adorned with red glass bangles.
    She smiles at each car.
    A precarious smile.
    And mystery cloaks her eyes.
    I think she's talking to herself.
    Something she's telling herself to do.
    Occasionally she touches her hair,
    And blushes, batting her soft eyelids.
    It was getting late.
    I glanced at my watch.
    "12 am".
    A nasty rain started to wet the streets.
    The lady quickly went inside a rusty door,
    Muttering some blatant curses.
    Three doors beside hers was another that held a peculiar sign--
    "This is a decent man's house"
    And some more doors after that.
    A few minutes later the lady came out
    The rain had slowed down to a drizzle
    She scanned the area
    Then she gestured to someone inside the door
    A little girl came out this time
    In a pink frock and a ponytail
    They both sat down at the porch
    The lady's mascara started to run
    But she still looked ravishing
    They laughed about something
    The child exclaimed through her crooked milk teeth
    Her mother fixing her hair
    My soul ached to know their stories
    The bewildering tales of the lady's eyes
    Somewhere in their hearts is trapped a jar of memories
    Filthy memories
    That they shut and buried deep down
    Memories of torture, betrayal, deceit
    Hazy images of people they didn't know
    Bodies being sold for money
    The pain carried by the lady's eyes.
    The first few days were tough
    So many desires to douse
    Black finger marks across their fair cheeks
    Diseases creeping up their blood
    Then they got used to it
    And turned their backs to society forever
    Stamped the mark of shame and rejection
    Their world inside that one rusty door
    And the visitors of course.
    Now it was all jolly
    The child had fallen asleep on her mother's lap
    Tired from the ecstatic contentment
    The lady picked up the girl
    And was about to disappear behind the door
    When a man in a black coat trotted up to her
    She glared at him
    After a brief exchange of words
    She summoned him inside with a disgusted face
    Putting a finger on her red lips
    Signaling him to keep quiet
    The door closed behind him
    And the rain started again as heavily as before.
    It baffles me
    The stories of these women
    Their rebellious acceptance of a cruel fate
    And they bravely face the world
    Despised as dead and ruined
    No names
    Just "whores".
    ©ink_and_solitude