Skip to main content

They don't stop at "Bisexual!"

They stared at me as if I had raped someone, though they don't even treat the victim as a person.
                     
  I could see a hair strand falling on her nape. I blew it and kissed there. She said she loved it.
  She ran her fingertips on the curves of my belly and I went forward and kissed her lips.
  We didn't always hold hands while walking but my heart skipped a beat everytime she knocked her head to one side and smiled at me.  
  "It hurts", she confessed one day.
"You don't want me to?", I asked in a mocking manner.
"I don't want you to stop", she blushed.
We are in love.
So what?

But one fine day, this happened...
"The society calls for it", she held back the lump in her throat.
That day, we kissed hungrily and felt the most of each other's body. She said I had the most beautiful body.
We parted without tears.

My husband is oblivion, till date.
I never forced myself to fall for her. It happened. Back of my head, I feel for her.
I might make love to her if we bump into each other, someday.

I love my husband.

Is that a sin? Or am I ugly?
Why those stares?
Why do you look at me like that?







Comments

  1. Hahaha why you need to justify:)
    It runs well:)
    Keep rolling .

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Till the blood dries.

  "The blood oozing out from the cut, gave me immense satisfaction."  "But where was the cut?"  "His neck."           I recently read about Nietzsche's thoughts on Morality and how the good and the evil have been reversed. He asks one to revise the existing norms and to live on ones mental instincts rather than following the herd morality. Isn't that a contradiction there?            The individual's mental instincts. Would they be good? Who decides the evil? Where do you cross the line?            When one is raped, why is there pressure on the law by the family? Would indirect foreordained justification calm your blood? No doubt Nietzsche spoke shit about democracy. 'A 16-year-old girl and her 22-year-old boyfriend were arrested for killing the girl’s adopted parents and leaving their bodies in the house to rot in an upmarket neighbourhood in Vadodara.' ...

I was shamelessly staring at him.

I realized I was shamelessly staring at him but I didn't cease. At the gas station, our bus was standing among vehicles which constantly honked horns. The conductor was engaged in a fight, a brutal one they said, which I didn't bother to look at. Soon the bus driver, too, became a part of it.  Half past one, the heat was intense. Cacophony surrounded me.  Abuses to pleads. One spat paan while the fight continued. For the young men it was a recreation, "Let's call the Prime Minister to sort this out", one joked. An elderly man staring at young girls playing. Women fanning themselves with the loose end of their saree and their mother-in-laws frowning at them as their sarees slipped from their heads. A mother grabbing a handful of chips from the packet her daughter was holding, chewing, cursing the weather, and the fighting men, as few bits fell off her mouth. An unmarried couple, taking all the advantage of the half-empty bus. A lady, post staring me from he...

I looked Pretty.

She was playing with his shirt buttons. In the metro, they stood face to face. Though, her head swung down often as she talked and smiled and blushed. The metro was crowded. But for her, it was just him. You could tell it from her eyes. You could see her eyes twinkling as she looked at him. She was beautiful, wore a salwar-kameez, hair tightly tied up. Her fingers brushing his’. In between, she slid two of her fingers in his breast pocket and giggled. She had a baby laughter, pleasant to my ears. She seemed so much in love, so content. Her man. Where was he? Yes, in front of her. Where were his eyes? Where were his eyes? I regret looking pretty that day.