food for thought

The Lost Virginity

Not that she ever asked for it or did anything to prove it in her entire life, but virginity had always been deemed pure much to her now-lost curiosity and newly-found annoyance. Right from her birth, every one – her parents, her siblings, her relatives, even her neighbors had announced that she was a deity to be worshipped, to be protected from evil and to be preserved in the shelter of innocence and compulsory happiness. There was no way to find out if this devotion, this surmount importance given to her protection was real or just a hypocritical lie. But then, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that virginity herself had to believe that she was fragile. And allowing her to be saved could indeed serve as a direct stairway to heaven for herself and everyone who knew her. And hence, it had begun even before her own beginning – the house arrest. Virginity was never permitted to step outside her house. The obvious reason being that too many things could go wrong and if she, god forbid, got lost in the wilderness outside, she wouldn’t be pure anymore! She wouldn’t remain the goddess that she supposedly was. In fact, she would turn into something quite contrary – shame. So, virginity spent her life locked inside her lovely home. There were days when she would insist if she could be allowed to go outside and at least be permitted to feel the freedom for a tiny moment. But she would be tactfully persuaded, manipulated and sometimes even violently subjugated to stay. The tactics didn’t work for long. To the acute annoyance of the fellow members of her family, she became more adamant over the time. When the truth ran out of its authenticity, when the lies stopped working, when the non-existent reasons could no longer be created, they lost their trust and began to lock the doors. Virginity, O the poor girl virginity, still longed to explore the wilderness, the captivating world beyond the walls. But as the rules became more stringent and the ways to confine her became more brutal, she started losing hope and slowly began to accept her unfair fate. Meanwhile, a different story continued to spin among her family – a story completely different from what they publically told. Secretly every person living inside that house knew her destiny. After all, one look at her and you would know that Virginity was bound to be lost. But no one could dare to accept that.
And so it happened, on a quiet careless night, virginity stumbled upon the doors that were accidentally left unlocked. Had the day she never thought would arrive was finally there? She wondered if she should go. She wondered if that risk was really worth taking. But hadn’t she dreamed about this moment her entire life? This was fate! This was her prayers coming true. This was everything she wished for – A chance! And so she ran with eyes filled with excitement and her toes bare that were longing to touch the grass for the first time. The wetness of the dews traversed right across her spine sending shivers through out her body. The smell of the wet soil intoxicated her. Never had a touch or a smell felt this amazing. Her eyes could finally find the vast sky above adorned with multiple diamonds. The view was heavenly. Never had she ever experienced this breathtaking beauty before. Never had she thought that her paradise would turn out to be even more beautiful than her wildest imagination! So, she ran fearlessly into oblivion. She ran further and further away from her home, from rules, from shame, from meaningless myths and traditions. Finally she arrived at a juncture where stood destiny gazing at her with her arms wide open. A step ahead and she knew she might not be able to find her way back home. She had travelled too far. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to completely abandon the sense of familiarity. Maybe the unknown was exaggerated. Maybe it was indeed time that she’d return. She stepped back reluctantly but destiny didn’t move. “Beautiful sensations lied ahead – how could you deny them?” she asked. Destiny was right – she couldn’t deny them. Hence, she took the path she wasn’t supposed to take.  She knew things would never be the same. And even if she did, she knew she might never be accepted. But all those ugly truths didn’t bother her. She had melted into her pleasure, into her excitement and into the emotions she had never felt before. Though her feet bled and calves pained but she did not stop. She had merged into this beautiful land now. Every touch mattered. Every sound resonated. The taste of freedom was divine. If this was the price she had paid for being lost. Then, this was worth it. Lost? Wait. What was that? Panic? The night suddenly turned dark and the forest became too dangerous to stay in any longer. In that moment of her vulnerability, sharp tinges of pain began to assault her. She grew too conscious of her bleeding feet. She frantically started running back in hopes of finding the way to her home. But she had no idea how she could return. She was lost! Virginity was lost! How did you let it happen to yourself? A voice rebuked. How could she explain the power of that impulse? In that moment, when she took the path, she had been in love. In that moment, she knew she couldn’t be saved. She had no choice. There are things that are too beautiful to miss despite the lurking dangers. She just had to experience that beauty. And hence she did.

She searched in darkness for signs that could lead her home. Then in the mud, under the glowing light of moon, she found her own footprints. Overjoyed, she started following them. It pained to walk but she walked anyway and eventually she reached the juncture that had transformed her life. She limped the way back through the familiar road. Soon, her home, her prison came into the view. The door was still unlocked and her jailers were nowhere to be seen. She tiptoed back into her room and began to wonder about the surreal events of that night. How beautiful it had been! She was lost and she was found. And now she was here! Back home! Would she lose her stature of “being a symbol for purity”? But what had been this purity? Why had people taken such drastic measures to retain something that didn’t even have any true meaning?  What would they do if they found about her? Would she forever be branded ‘lost’? But didn’t the fact that she had experienced something so mystic and returned also made her qualified for being called ‘found’? Why could virginity always be lost and never be found?

Peeking out of the curtains of her thoughts, she looked herself in the mirror and asked, “Who is Virginity anyway? Lost or found – what difference does it make as long as she is happy?”

***

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30 Days writing challenge, Poetry, theturquoiseink quotes.

Jour Dix huit – Borrowed

Is what I often think all my thoughts are
Wearing a façade of temporary originality.
But in a population of seven billion,
Originality is overrated anyway.

*

AUTHOR’S LITTLE NOTE:
This blog series is a part of a 30 Days writing challenge, which is as depicted by the picture below (Special thanks to Pinterest):
Writing challenge - May'17
food for thought, Narratives

It’s 11:30 P.M.

It’s 11:30 P.M. And this night is perfect. The wind is just amazing. Moon is at its best and the Street lights! Oh these jewels! Roads are generally not the boasting type but even they can’t help but flaunt them off. Oh what a beautiful night it is! La belle nuit! But you know who’s ruining this  beauty? Not a who actually – A what.

I, I walking alone, I walking alone and I am a woman.

What am I doing here this late? Of course, I shouldn’t be here!  Am I nuts or what?There’s a rule woman! “Men only” – You don’t break it!

And what if I do? What  if I do? What does that make me? A catcalling material? A stalking material? A raping material?

Of course, it does.

It’s 11:30  P.M. I think I have seen you pass by before. I think I marked your presence when you honked at the empty road before. I hold your interest, I see. But is this how you try to impress people? I am sorry to tell you that it doesn’t work that way. I am quite opposite of impressed right now. I am angry. Why are you doing this? Just because I am walking alone at night? Just because I am a woman? Does that not make me a human? Does that just make me a random insignificant creature to insult? Would it have helped if I was dressed in a different way? Maybe saree? Maybe burkha? Maybe the toilet paper rolled over me like a mummy? Would you have just passed by and not done these random acts of kindness then?

It’s 11:30 P.M and I think we need to sit and talk. Don’t be shy, come on! Let me unravel the mysteries of  workings of your brain tonight. What do you want? What do you not?Do you not like us taking a casual stroll in our own locality? Do you not like us minding our own business? Do you not like us feeling safe and secure in our own city? Is it just your right not ours? What do you think, darling? Do you think it is a great act of benevolence to try to scare the shit out of people who have done nothing to bother you?

I like how you disrespect me. I like your high spirits and over confidence. I like how you judge me entirely based on my gender. Come on, man! Speak up! Honking is not a language, you do know that right?

I am resisting not shouting at you. I am resisting ignoring you.  I am resisting not to put up a fight. I don’t know kung fu after all. I don’t have a gun. I don’t know if I can defend myself but I want to speak to you. I want to pour my heart to you.  I won’t though fearing that it will all backfire. If walking is a crime for you, then you might have a hard time adjusting to me talking. What a shame! What a shame I can’t tell you how I feel! What a shame I can’t make you feel as unsafe as you make me feel. What a shame I can’t make your mother worried sick over the fact that you are going to come home late or you are travelling alone. What a shame I can’t make you text dozens of people that you have reached home once you do. What a shame I can’t make you dread this beautiful night! I see that you live here too. I see that this place is your home too. What a shame that I can’t make it a hell for you as well!

All I can do right now is to not speak. Not shout. Not react.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

And pray that I am back at my place safe. Because if I am not, god forbid, if I am not…then how stupid will that be of me. It was 11:30 P.M at night, they will say, what was she doing that late? It was 11:30 P.M. for fuck sake, they will say, she was asking for it. Man! She was asking for it.

food for thought, Poetry

CHEERS TO THE DEMONS

I wrote this poem under a blaze of fury three years back. I cried, I swore and I cursed how unfair this world was…

Three years and nothing has changed. Three years from now, nothing will change. In this world. In you. Or in me. Nothing at all will ever change.

I do not want to sound like a pessimist and I do not want to ramble like a mad man (though that is what exactly I am doing right now) but I just fail to understand how and why such people exist at all. I fail to understand that why do I have to pay for the fact that I am a woman? What wrong did that ever do?

Anyway…

Cheers to the race that doesn’t have a heart,
No reasons, no morals, no souls, no scruples,
But piles of lies, tons of deeds, all perfectly unabashed and splendidly aghast.
 
Cheers to their courage to walk unhesitantly in the crowd,
To stand with a stride and to converse with a pride,
And just in case their secrets revealed, to their dignified admittance clear and loud.
 
Cheers to their score that keep augmenting every day,
To their pleasures, to their amusement emerging from despair,
To their delight, to their bliss, to their ability to rejoice every time one cries in pain and dismay.
 
Cheers to their shamelessness, cheers to their sins,
Cheers to their disrespect for fellow human beings,
Cheers to the vanished humanity in their souls,
To the way their conscience has drifted in black hole,
And cheers to their skill of turning hearts into stones,
To their abhorring thoughts and to the way they never atone,
Cheers to the way, in this world, they sustain,
Cheers to those monsters, cheers to those beasts, cheers to those incredible demons again.

food for thought, philosophy, Short Stories

The Invisibility cloak

“How did you get this?” She enquired (not) looking at my invisibility cloak with her coveted and infatuated eyes. I sat speechless, surprised at her choice – How did I get it? I don’t know. I don’t remember.
“How did you get it?” She asked again, more curious now.

The greed and admiration in her eyes caused an unexplained agony in my heart.

“You seem utterly fascinated by it? You want it?”

“Want it?” She exclaimed. “Hell yeah! I want it!” And then she went on to how she would use it; How she would blend right in and no one would ever know, how she would run freely, oblivious of the eyes and voices around, how she would observe and never be observed, how she would be anyone she wants in her own little world. It would be amazing, she said. It would be the greatest thing, she said.

Her naivety stabbed jealousy in my heart and her ignorance made me chuckle. How did I get the invisibility cloak though? Oh! I remember! I did not get the invisibility cloak. I made it. I casted a spell weaved out of colloquial speech and vernacular thoughts. I dyed my cloak with the rainbow colors of society. I washed it in the buckets full of dreams and fairy-tale fantasies and squeezed them right through it. I dried it under the sunlight of approvals and normalcy. I sewed it with the delicate soft threads of comfort and advantages. I ironed out the wrinkles and creases with the heat of conformity as well as frequent genocide of idiosyncrasies.

“You like it? You can take it.” I said.

“Really? You sure?”

Am I sure? Of course, I am sure. I don’t want it. In fact, I loathe it. I am tired of wearing this depressing thing! And your admiration! Jeez! It doesn’t make even a bit of sense to me! How can you be so fascinated by this? What’s wrong with being seen after all? When there is nothing to hide why do you need this cloak? Once you start wearing this, you can never take it off! Why do you want to spend your whole life peeking through this deception? This cowardice? This great doleful irony?

“Yes, you can take it. It is yours now.”

And anyway, I have already started making myself a new one.

humour, philosophy

About manipulating and getting manipulated

I guess this is one of those days when I just hate everything. I go and find refuge in my playlists, find some company with some of those overplayed songs, feel good about nothing and just waste my whole day. Of course, then “self- worth” ghost that always keeps hovering around me squeaks in her pathetic little voice – “You waste your day anyway be it your bad mood day or a good mood day, so don’t blame it on the day, it’s you pathetic person! It’s you!

Wow. Was I not upset enough?

I don’t even want to bitch about this ghost. It’s tiring. She doesn’t deserve my attention, let alone a whole blog post.

However, the truth is she already has too much of my attention. Yeah. And I don’t think I can spare anymore. I am already hanging on a thin thread. I don’t need more tension and the stress.

Anyway, it’s a bad day. I have to talk about something even more not-happy!

And so here it goes-

It suddenly strikes me now that all I have ever done in my life is to get manipulated. Actually, my whole life is a result of manipulation. And I am not just a victim. I have manipulated others as well.

It’s like a tradition; we get manipulated. We manipulate others. If we are not good at it then we spend an enormous amount of money to learn to manipulate someone. We get manipulated even if we are aware of the very fact. We get manipulated even when the thought doesn’t even remotely cross our minds. We manipulate others in quite similar ways. God, it’s a vicious cycle!

World needs to stop for a moment.

And I need to remember when was the last time that I had an original idea which was free of other people opinions.

Original idea? What is originality anyway?

You know manipulation isn’t as bad as it sounds. We have learnt to live with it. The advertisements, the newspaper, the parents, the friends, the teachers. They are not bad? Come on parents? Sometimes, it all works out for the best. Maybe even the bestest thing in your life can be a result of a hard core brainwash. But at the same time, doesn’t it all begin to feel so pointless? Why do we need someone to wash our brains? Can’t we think on our own?

We need some serious answers. We don’t need opinions.

Do we?

Do we?

Maybe the truth, the real answers are too harsh to bear and hence we just leave ourselves in the hands of others. And all we get in our lives are opinions.

Yeah, this is me consoling myself.

So, am I trying to say that we don’t need answers?

I want myself to think that. Yes.

Oh! Boy! I am back to square one. It’s true isn’t it? Ignorance is bliss.

Nevermind-reaction-gif