(S)he

This poem is just my expression of something that has been on my mind for quite some time. No amount of poems or prose or praise will redress the injustice that they face. We pass them everyday but avert our eyes and shy away in disgust. But I hope there will come a day when they too can live just like all of us. Happy Reading!

It was a cold day outside

She shivered inside and outside

In spite of her being draped in her favourite saree in blue

Just like her favourite actress who danced in the rain

She attempted to cover up the scars and cuts on her body 

Which would give testimony in court for her existence

That it was yet another miracle that people like her existed

As she went on with absolute concentration

This was an art she must master

She painted beautiful strokes of red

Dark like the colour of menstrual blood

After she was done she looked at her artwork

Satisfied by her red talons like those of an eagle after its kill

But here it was the eagle which was being hunted

She turned her lipstick covered lips into an 'o'

And began to blow

With utmost care like trying to blow a feather from a baby's body

Then she began to blow harder and moved her hands like a harmonium player

Playing her own tunes of sorrow

After what felt like hours

She touched the tip of the nail like touching a baby's wound

As it didn't smudge she went on with the next masterpiece

She slowly picked up a bottle of half dried eyeliner and applied

She had learnt something new called 'winged liner' 

Like holding a gun her hands shook with fear

Not of society

Not of her family

Not of her existence

But fear of utilising this limited resource 

Of eyeliner

Of being happy

Of blissful solitude

After she had outlined her eyes

She rolled her eyes upwards to check if her eyeliner smudged

"Good" she muttered to herself

Before the grand show, she checked herself for those little brats

Those which pained her of her past

A few were black and a few were white

"Ah unlike you little ungrateful pricks I am neither black nor white, I am grey" she thought with pride

She picked up her tweezers and pulled those hairs on her face

With each one her skin cried in pain and tears filled in her eyes

But she convinced herself that this was her penance

The pain and suffering will ultimately lead her to happiness

She stood up and posed in front of the mirror

Pouting, winking, sticking her tongue out

Like a little girl she gave a giggle in her raspy voice

She finally felt like a woman

She touched her reproductive organ for the umpteenth time to see if the cheap prostate surgery had done it's magic

As she felt herself she realised that not all the scars were left by the surgery

She tried to enjoy this little time she got for herself

Before she panted and wriggled under a man twice her age 

Who thinks he is doing a sacrifice by 'liberating' her and in the process gaining his humble share

She was seeking validation in a stuffy room lit by a dim bulb

 which stayed still as countless insects preyed upon it

She was not the only thing withering away 

Or she would be panting as she travels across roads

Begging as traffic crawled like water seeping out 

She would shout obscenities or blessings in her sand paper like voice

All she needed was a thousand rupees

In her head a human is equal to thousand rupees 

To breathe

To fuck 

To beg

To exist