The Game of Thorns (1)

Soulless life 

Darr nahin lagti hai. 

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Just a random thought penetrates into the mind; just like the unwelcomed dick in her vagina. It doesn't really hurt some months. But it is not the same flesh anymore; the scars of her battle in broad daylight sometimes, in the pinching darkness sometimes have left her to see the (w)hole from an unknown perspective. The vagina has healed, though virginity was never a question to her. She is walking around, eating out at restaurants, sipping coffee, visiting malls. But no more alone. 

What did she do? Nazma was not rebellious. She did not use to wear shorts or mini skirts like me, neither her tops revealed her cleavage like mine. She obliged to the customary black-clad of the burqa, unquestioned. That is how her god wants the women to stay protected. We had one beautiful thing in common. We both loved black. We like how black just absorbs and accepts everything into itself without revealing, without pride, without demeaning anything, 

That lonely house of worship became her terror. Under the peaceful coloured green dome, those men in white taught her the lesson: black does show a colour - the colour red. She had bled many years every month, but that blood was different. It was no more red. It became the colour of her nightmares. It became the colour she did not know her blood to be, It was the colour she drenched herself in as sweaty nights. 

Days went by; her morning was nowhere to be found. Endless nights of twists and twitches, sobs and silence, screams and muteness, shoulders and closed doors. She knew everybody will sympathize and console, but nobody will share the pain; just like only an amputated athlete knows the pain of not being able to swim anymore. She kept living the past every day. Her wounds healed. But if you will look closely, there are scars of her battle still struggling to get out from between her legs. She doesn't apply anti-marks creams, or scratch erasing oils .

I asked her, why doesn't she bother to fix the scar. She replied, "rooh jakhmi he, daag kya cheez hai". I did not ask her further. 

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To be continued...