5/28/09

Dark truths.

I started putting red bangles on, while Ma started settling other things in the house. Was adorned in a red sari, and even after the sveltve figure, there was something the sari could not hide. Anyway, Pooja came into the room, and told me that the people had arrived. Papa was making them comfortable as they come out of their car.
I was seated at a wooden chair, and was staring into my own eyes, through my reflection in the mirror. Brown eyes, black kohl,red bindi with black outline,red sandals.. just worth satisfaction maybe. Whatever..I moved out of the room, and went straight into the kitchen. This was a usual routine for me,and I always knew the result, and was never excited about "new" people coming in. I still don't understand why Ma instills new hopes inside her, whenever she gets a recommendation about XYZ from Aunty ABC.
There was a smell of sumptuous servings filled inside the kitchen. They are no more pleasing to me..because I've smelled them..just to often, similar to how I've worn bangles seven times before, and hidden my face with a pallu and walked with shy steps to the people. Yes, you probably would have guessed what I'm talking about, and if you haven't you probably will, in some time.
Like always, I was handed a tray of this and that (food and yet more food) to carry to the drawing room. They were seated there. One aunt, who was scanning me from head to toe, and probably taking in every detail of me, maybe even how many stones are there in the ring I'm wearing. Its disgusting that a B.tech Topper is living like this, but whatever,family comes first. And then the dreaded part of the discussion starts, they make me walk ,why? to make sure that I'm not handicapped. *Yes why not, as if I came flying in front of them*, they make me write,eat and even speak.
And then they stand up after further argument or discussion, with finishing the plates f servings clear ofcourse. They'll walk down like burgalars, who're too scared to commit their crime. I care nonetheless, because I've seen people like these before.

They reject me for their son.
All because I'm dark.

Yes sir, being dark makes me a non-human right?
Thankyou very much.

5/25/09

55 fiction : Remember the roses ?



Desperately trying to mend the glass of the golden frame containing our picture, I sit by the window looking out into the world. The world which seemed beautiful when your hand's touch comforted me at ugly times.

You always said that its insanity to hate all roses, if you got pierced by one thorn. But. . . when the thorn cuts you deep, and the roses disappear.. do you have a choice?