Help-less-ness

I thought I was ready for the break-up. I mean somewhere I knew that one day; he would leave me and wouldn’t care to look back. But then everything was going fine, for 3 damn years, it was all amazing.

One Saturday, we went on an awesome dinner date and next Thursday; he said those 5 magical words, “I can’t do it anymore”. Magic, isn’t it. How something so insignificant to the world leaves you shattered in a second. In that moment, I didn’t know how to feel. I couldn’t cry. I was just shivering.

We had this conversation at our workplace and I came back to my cubicle, told my colleague who used to sit beside me that it’s all over. Yes, I had said that. It was all over indeed. I couldn’t be at my desk, couldn’t go anywhere, as if my mind was trapped in a lost world.

I took the rest of the day off saying that I was sick, which was true. Now that I think of it, recovering from a bad break up is worse than a lot of other diseases I have had. The next two days I stayed home and cried. I don’t remember eating anything. Today it’s the 6th day and I already feel better, though my parents think I should be married off ASAP, my friends think I was foolish enough to trust that guy in the first place, my colleagues think it must be my fault that it didn’t work out and my neighbors think that I am too short to be wedded off (not sure what that means).

There are moments when I cry and cry and can’t stop crying, and that will continue for some time I believe. As they say, the more the tears, the stronger you are. Right now, my focus is to find a new and better job, and I hope to be indifferent to that bastard as quickly as I can.

P.S. The ‘I’ in this piece is not me. This is for a friend. Thanks for reading!

An unpleasant View

It’s dark out there; I can’t see much except for a little hope in each one those eyes. The war has been going on for hundreds of years, and from where I see, it will continue for 50 more at least. Some fight with their families, some with society and a major lot with themselves.

She was a day old when her dad asked her mom to abandon her. “Throw her in a gutter, give away to someone or simply kill”, he said with an expressionless face.

She was 3, when an uncle tried to finger her, and when she tried to make sense of it, he gave her a cookie.

She was 8 when she was scolded by her mom to close her legs.

She was 11 when she got a red spot on the back of her white school uniform, and the guys made fun of it.

She was 14 when a stranger brushed himself against her, squeezed her and grinned.

She was 18 when her boyfriend threatened to rape her if she doesn’t agree to have sex with him.

She was 22 when she just wanted to go out for a walk post-dinner and yes it was a big deal.

She was 24 when she was termed ‘slut’ by aunties for going out with her guy friends and for adopting an orphan girl child.

She was 26 when she finally became brave enough to handle some of those situations, confident enough to face some of those people and mature enough to know stuff that just can’t be done being a female in this country.

But, she is still not ready to accept all that. She can’t make sense of what happened and why people did what they did. Everyone tells her that this is how women are supposed to be treated, but she wants to change the facts. Good thing is that she is not alone. There are thousands of ‘SHEs’, but the not so good thing is that they are not being able to change much.

If I could zoom through space in the speed of light, I would want to be there and feed all those; whoever they are, claiming to be humans; with the thought that treat women like normal people. There is a soul behind those boobs and vagina, and guess what, that soul doesn’t need to be worshipped and respected. It just needs not to be abused, accused, harassed and molested.

Of course, I have a lot more to say on this topic, and on related aspects, but for all that, I will write other post(s), or else it would get too boring to read, and write.