I was born on the lands of history, where people boasted more about their priorities and did less towards their liabilities.
I cried my soul, the very first time the nature took me into its arms. It was a cruel world, where I was being judged on the basis of my gender.
My creator was criticized, for how could she give birth to me.
But her love was eternal, so pure she could never stop showering her love on me.
She made the pain enjoyable. With every move of her body, she would embrace all of the world’s agony.
She was made of the morning, after a sleepless night, the last fallen leaf in the season of spring, the bokeh to my father’s focus.
She loved him for who he was, what he did and all he ever hoped for.
One day, he dies…
Just where my father was being cremated, she was forced into the fire.
The rituals said it all, Satypratha was what they called.
But she, the brave one, let my father do his remaining journey alone with pride, she had me in her arms, delightfully innocent.
Oh, the guilty pleasure in flaunting white.
I grew up to be a bright one, always troublesome and less pampered.
I fell in love with a guy.
He left the trails of tiny hearts on my incomplete footsteps, flamboyant enough to radiate my soul.
He made me believe that everything that matters to him in the world, fits perfectly in the palm of my hand.
Alas! I was disowned again by my people. He believed in The Almighty, very different to mine.
I eloped for the love of my life, taking thousands of curses with me, I was happy with my beloved.
The world where I live is no less a hell, were I’m being judged for every single leap I take.
You always have two options, to chase the crowd or walk alone.
I preferred walking alone.
But then, there were people, who sometimes made me believe that I was wrong, that the world runs as such, that I was a just a small speck of dust in this vast universe,no matter what, I was to be suffered and ignored.
But hey, it won’t sound right to the mass bundle of idiots out there, the society, my people.
They won’t see the wrong done, instead they will stand in the crowd and let the world consume me.
You have all ruined it for me.
And I have consciously let you ruin me.
And then just like that one day,
You will walk through my ruins, where I would be terrifyingly telling you every bit of my sufferings, that you, yes you… has done to me.
But still ,I know you’ll stand straight trying to mend my wounds and question me the same old line.
“ohh! Tell me that’s not true.”
– PARVEEN SULTANA