Skip to main content

Not All Women

I remember I once told a woman
How I felt
 And how terrible things happened
And how I couldn't sleep at night
For there were fears
Of predators lurking around my home
Looking for the next prey they would eat up whole
I remember
I bared out my heart and soul
I remember I couldn't breathe as I stopped my heart to beat
To tell her how I really, really feel
How I wake up and I just want to go back to sleep
How broken memories of a broken me
Shattered my past, my present, my dreams...
I told her how I needed a new home..
And she said, 'hold a second, I got a call'
And she walked away for a while
And came back as if nothing happened
As if she didn't hear anything I just said
As if she wanted not to be where I am
Yet she didn't want me to be the one pulling me up, making me whole
She wouldn't want to be my friend
She wouldn't want anything more to know
And later would pass around my past
To other ears, of other people who didn't know me well
For I was someone who was wronged;
And maybe, to her, I didn't seem much of a help.
She would come back to me in a month
And would remind me of my wounds
And what people would talk behind my back
So my wounds that were healing would get scratched again
 and I would go back down to the pit from which I was almost climbing up
It happened every month
Till I realized what was wrong
That I chose a confidante because of her gender
It was then I realized
Not all women are my friends
To not select friends just by their gender
Let me go to someone who would be my strength
Let me go to someone who would be more of a help
In my times of despair
And I found plenty of men and women
Who would give me a hand
When I would climb up from the pit again
But why do I still remember
How hurt I was
When I told a woman
How I really, really felt

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Curious Case of the Open Backdoor

What does a backdoor mean to you? In matters related to computers, a backdoor is something that breaches security measures and accesses private data without your permission- some means hackers would use. In matters of real estate, a backdoor is a door at the rear end of a house or building. Leaving it open would often mean keeping the house insecure as one would seldom be guarding that end unless when close to it. Leaving it open would also give one the chance to run away from the backdoor when someone uninvited unwanted is at the front door. So, what does backdoor mean when it comes to your life goals? It's something on the similar lines- Every time you devise a plan B, you are creating a backdoor in your life and leaving it open. Your life goals could be anything - that career option, that job offer, that relationship, that marriage proposal, that transfer letter, anything significant, and anything that makes you wonder how it would turn out, anything where the future is uncertai...
8 comments
Read more

Ablaze Within ...

It was either for the scorching sunrise that hurt her eyes or the cold breeze that blew scratching the fresh wounds on her arms, but Disha could tell that her friend had tears in her eyes for some reason or the other. “Nothing,” Razia said, when confronted by Disha, hiding her eyes as she wiped her tears with her hands. “Got paid?” Disha enquired. “Yes.” Lied Razia while walking towards the place she has been calling home from the past couple of years. She headed for the bathroom as she entered her room where two girls were sitting, one smoking a cigarette while the other wearing make-up in front of the broken mirror in the room. Razia cleaned her skirt that was smeared with her blood. She wasn’t prepared for it. After all it was that 14- year old’s first time. Not the first time that she had been “ridden” by men, nor the first time that she bled while bearing the intolerable pain the men gave her, but for the first time that she painlessly bled indicating a cycle o...
21 comments
Read more

"Are You a Lesbian?"

“Are you a lesbian?” A friend of mine once asked me mockingly when we were discussing about my aversion from some (“some” not “all”) kind of men. “No. But does it matter?” I asked her scornfully. No, I wasn’t bothered that I was asked a question about my sexuality. But what I didn’t understand was that is being a lesbian a matter to be jeered about? What if I was one? Wouldn’t I be hurt and embarrassed that my sexuality was just mocked at? Why are the words “gay” or “lesbian” used as slangs? Another incident, that took place a couple of years back, was when I was teasing two girl friends of mine, accusing them of having an affair. I considered it as normal as teasing a guy and a girl. One of them found it so disrespectful that she, instead of simply denying the fact, chided that she isn’t of such “third class” standard. I later discussed the small argument that we had, with her, trying to make my point that being a lesbian or a transgender doesn’t define anyone’s cla...
19 comments
Read more