Poetry

Sacred or Secret?

Representing family to the society.
To the men and his family.

While sitting awkwardly like a Barbie doll in front of them.
Muscles as tight as plastic and thoughts as cold as a marble.

 

“I am not here to judge” they utter
Those words might even make you feel better

And then they sit on the iron throne,
Passing judgements like passing strange, unknown people on a subway.

And suddenly you want to get lost amongst those strange people,
Be one of those unidentified souls.

 

These men, stopping at your station, not bothering if you want to hop along.
Shutting the door of their brains within a few seconds and running out of the platform.

“What is your idea of marriage?” one would ask.

“Marriage is a beautiful thing” you reply.
Only the beauty of your skin would decide the beauty of your married life.

“Marriage is a holy act”
Only the strength of this holiness would depend on the strength of your hymen before marriage.

“Marriage is where you find your soul mate”
Because this body was soul less. Hallow till the time you found a life partner and he decided a meaning out of your living.

At last, “marriage is a union of two families” you add, forcing your face muscles to curve on the edges of your lips.
Two families, sitting on a sea saw. Except your side of the sea saw is rusted, jammed and rubbing its bottom on the sand.

The conversation follows as per the script. And as the words flow free, your body cringes.

Because while your words reach his ears,
his eyes scan you
Head to toe
Trying hard to detect an explosive.

 

But it’s a time bomb baby,

It will blast when the time comes…

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2 thoughts on “Sacred or Secret?”

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