Her (pt 2)

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Souls are murdered and the society gives birth to a soulless her, whose sole purpose is to make sacrifices and white kids. No one appears to question that look on her face when she’s asked to turn into a maid for another man. She could make the country shine but shinning utensils is her sole job. Aspirations are thrown away to fulfill someone’s sexual desire. Her body isn’t hers anymore, it belongs to the filthy hands of a filthy human. Slaps and abuses shall be awarded if she fails to pass as a maid. Neighbouring eyes turn away to make her suffer and would turn in her direction is she tries to find solace in someone else. Someone who aspires to free her from the chain. Many tend to believe in the belief that they were born a maid, few tend to fight back and the rest are quite jovial with their daily course of abuses. 

“God! She ran with someone else. Such a whore.”

“God! He dumped his lady for another lady. Badass is being a MAN.” 

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Her (pt 1) 

There’s no one to help, no one to look after the other, no one to save her from the pest, the pest which grows within the Indian society. There’s no conscious or subconscious mind in an Indian society, she has to abide by the set of unnarrated rules present in her surroundings. There are no answers for her but forces which mold her to forget her. A passerby can’t just question the belief, he has to believe in the belief for the society’s sake. One different opinion and it’s an end to her freedom. Look is not what defines the society, actions are. Actions which continue to affect generations and are giving birth to puppets. 

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Quick 

Hey there! You’re nice! Let’s be friends! How are you? It’s nice meeting you!  Well I’ll return in a while! Oh it’s been a month! Well I guess I’ll take more time! 

*waiting*

Oh sorry but I didn’t recognise you! Do I know you? What! We were friends? Wait a while! Oh yeah you’re that stupid girl! We never were friends bitch! Stay away! Stay in your limits! You’re below my standard! BYE! 

*stunned*

*self talk*

I thought we were friends. I had this misconception from such a long time. This is what kept me waiting. How could I misjudge someone? Why did I place him on top of my priorities? I considered that person beyond any list. I would have been awake. Well crying wouldn’t benefit me with anything. He’s gone. He’s lost. He wouldn’t return. He’s fallen in a well. I’ll move on. It’s okay. 

I hate moodswings! 

I don’t like writing, I don’t like reading, I don’t like anything. It’s just that when I’m fed up of things or people, the one thing that comes to my mind is to open wordpress which actually has no role in my mobile, it’s just occupying space.

Being a teenager, one of my most common experiences is having moodswings! To be honest, I really love myself when I’m between some of those bloody moodswings, cause during those times I usually bang my head on various things or bang those things on my head. People watching me (most times family) assume that I’ve been possessed (lol) and they prefer slapping me! That indeed was very funny (only for me I guess)!

These days, something even unique is coming around, almost every time I see a boy around me I just want to get to him and say I love you, kiss me please ! It doesn’t really matter to me if he’s ten years younger or ten years older than me. Well, that’s not the real me but that’s the one who’s eating me up these days. 

Perhaps, I can’t do these sort of things so moreover I prefer texting my friends nonsense, any sort of thought which comes to my mind first goes to them after which I read it and I’m like, “what the hell am I up to!?”  

A few more situations happen quite often these days. I guess my moodswings also get moodswings which further gets to my head and makes me pretty much annoying. 

Right now, I can’t express the strange things which are going in my mind. Everything’s so blur and transparent. I can’t figure out the better me standing behind those musings. But I very well know that I am there. 

Oh! I wish I’d been good during those moodswings! 

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The Mountain…

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Up the mountain, the lion is quite and the sky roars… Going high up there, the spirits awake and the fear betrays the bravery…

The scars on the mountain speak up the conditions in which it has survived, the rain, the wind, the seasons… It has learnt to survive the bad. Yet.. it is frustrated.

The cloud which has been a support to the Mountain, is still there…It crawls over it and whispers in its ear that the day would definitely come, it really would come…The day man would look upto you, stop criticising you and think of you as his True Idol…

“YES THE DAY WOULD COME”, the cloud repeats and keeps on repeating…