Bleeding

Bleeding.

Bleeding green,
The colour when you see that
He has what you always wanted,
Bleeding yellow,
When the happiness belongs to that one
Whom you love, but not you,
Bleeding black,
When hatred towards him is
Ruining your soul,
Bleeding white,
When peace is all you want and
You would throw everything away for it,
Bleeding red,
When she's not around and
You miss her smile the most,

Finally bleeding blue,
Because your favorite team is playing and
India has won! :P

Note: this writer enjoys a good game on the big screen :D

Fear Street ?

It's like a nightmare waiting to be retold millions of times. The same figure, the same vague shape in the distance which sends chills down her spine. She vaguely recalls holding that slim waist. Then shudders.

Shudders at having been made to believe that she is the equivalent of a servant or worse, that of a common prostitute. But the two had dignity that she didn't find in two years. The two would have some shred of self respect left where she had none.

She calls up the face of the one she loves now to chase away the figure of her demon. But it's still there, lingering somewhere to haunt her, to pull her back from even walking alone in a peopled road in broad daylight.

Does a woman ever get over that fear once instilled in her? The brute domination of sheer physical force of someone bigger over someone smaller?

Maybe she has begun to believe in love again, maybe she has begun to trust again, maybe she is regaining what she ended up losing.

Even then. Though she can voice it out, act out, do so many things... though she is aware of all this... when does she actually recover from the panic and fear of having been rendered helpless and subjugated and manipulated? When?

Hopefully, when truth and love shows her that all men are not the same and that people do change for the better... and when she lives in a society where this manipulation, subjugation and domination are not embedded in its members as a part of daily life. That sort of life isn't okay for anyone.

Here's to hoping for a happy life. Salud!

Expectations

It's like they still haven't learnt it.
After all these years of evolution
And of walking erect on two feet,
It is still a bit hard -
To square out the shoulders,
To puff out the chest,
To walk with the complete, stereotypical vision of
A strong, confident man.

Maybe it isn't always needed?
Or maybe that's what they want to hear.
That they're allowed to hunch
Those powerful shoulders and
Curl up into a ball and maybe just,
And maybe just once,
At least for a little while,
Around someone else, a loved one.

To have let go of that stiff posture
Does not mean that he can not
Take care of another or himself,
It just means he is tired, maybe,
Or maybe a bit sad, slightly depressed,
Everything doesn't always go the way
We want it to go.
It never does.

It's just like everyone else and
No one can remain strong at
Every single moment and you can't
Simply expect that, because he is a man,
He doesn't have feelings or that
He doesn't want to show what he feels -
Why would anyone think he doesn't?
He is human too. Just like you.