In the moonlight’s glow
A ‘daring’ light
Penetrated through the iron railings
And merged on her brows
Inside her,
Nothing was left of her
But, a small, shrunken shell
With kafka, Hopkins and Dostoyevsky
While the house of trade flourished
Unease slid along her innards
Knowledge within her perishable body
Proved worthier
In the ordinariness of
Marriage game
Every night
As the watchman’s shoes
Clattered on the cobbles outside
Keeping to the shadows
She watched the garish owners
Waggling their feet on the iron-safe
Eye-for-eye rapacity, ruthless cut-throats
Sickly white plastered figures seemed
Powerful, so embarrassingly powerful to her
Every life they took for granted
Even their wives were like puppets
Whose limbs moved, according to the tugs they gave
Her dreams fell apart
She was hurt and humiliated
With the clumsy rapid mating
Night after night like an animal,
Two rough hands tore up her brassiere
Those thick fingers bruised her body
She became a victim of a young man’s brutish hunger
Perhaps waiting for children to born out of union
She didn’t know whom to turn to for consolation
Wished, she could tell her father that she hoped for better
Far away from people who only thought of money,
whose brides were unimportant, their happiness unnecessary
For these men had very little time
For the niceties of any kind
For her, love was flowers in the hair
Bees humming in the sun, ponds full of lotuses
Conversation, companionship and warmth in a relation,
Finally, a morning nudged her to save her soul from rusting
Exhausted, she started walking the dark canvas of life
Firmly masked, engulfed in her silent shores
With deceit playing in her fluorescent lips
She learnt to feed Blake’s ‘beams of love’…
Outside, darkness darkened for all those men
Inside her, the spirit of madness pulled out her hinges.
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