In the world, where we come to feel safe and experiences things collectively supporting others, we loose our soul mission and are invested in the worldly norms. One of them being, girls feeling always picked on, always on the run, always on the look...
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Haven't we felt the immense rage boiling within us as we try to soothe it down and yet it manages to dominate? Yes, that is what I feel now. Often times, we think what our loved ones might think if we act in a fit of rage and / or agony and say things we didn't mean to. There are times where the anger meant for someone else happens to burn a totally different person whom you love dearly. And I have been experiencing all of it. I stand there in the room with him and all my friends - the ride or die ones but this time theireyes aren't filled with love and affection, their faces isn't glowing with pride but their eyes speak a million questions and their piercing gaze manages to strike right through my soul. There are only one set of eyes, unquestioning but concerned, scared and broken hoping for me to let all of my emotions out and sense those eyes on me - mysoulmate, mysoul sister, myreal best friend, my sister from another mother.
To give you a little context of what I've been penning about I will give an extremely short-lived flashback. The play went well where the devil himself was offered to play my brother and as planned we all did well, all our expectations were met, all the roles portrayed with grace and beauty except for the last unplanned bit. A brother and a sister's hug comprises a whole swirl of emotions hidden within - and these emotions are understood by they themselves but in our case he wasn't my brother. Hell!!I didn't even want anything to do with him except for playing my part with the utmost perfection I could manage to bring into myself. A single hug, a hug meaning nothing yet turning my entire world into a tornado, taking into its grasp all of the emotions, all of my relationships and every bit of trust and understanding. I look into his eyes and see all the pain and the resentment. I also see the complain of a kid being deprived of his candy even though he deserved it, I see the betrayal of handing over the candy to someone else when he was clearly interested in having that one particular candy, I see the questions of why would I breach his trust this way. I see it all but this time, I am silent - not because I am wrong, not at all but because this once my actions will be the answer to all of his questionnaires.
Without saying a word, I march towards the canteen where that sick bastard resides rejoicing and relishing his moment of happiness. I can hear my own heart ferociously beating not because I am scared or worried but because now the Satan in me has been summoned. I hear everyone's voices calling out for me except for his but I know he is following. But this time, even if he didn't I would lead and go on with whatever I was trying to do because this was about my self-respect, a girl's dignity and every woman's safety and comfort was at stake and would I back out? Never. I reached the canteen and within a flash I was before his eyes as he scanned my face looking for answers or disgust or timidness or fear. But what he was meet with was a face full of rage, eyes portraying every sign of revolt and gaze - piercing through his darkest times. He stands up gulping. Good, I like the fear, at least he knows he has no power, no assertiveness whatsoever. He opens his mouth trying to ask what he did. The 'What...' was the portion where I lost every last bit of the calm I managed to with hold within my soul and the instinct on which myhand went to his face without my brain having to direct it or without my mind processing the situation or the surrounding. Pin drop silence. The looks on everybody's face makes me laugh out loud today but o boy!! At that precise moment it didn't. He held his cheek, reddened - maybe because of the embarrassment or the fear or, the heat of my hand hitting him right in that ugly face of his. Everyone was flabbergasted but I wasn't, I knew this avatar of mine would arise every time I'd see bad happening to someone. I didn't stop, there was another slap, after slap, after slap... after which he called out to me, first time since the entire incident had happened and I stopped. My hand did. My senses followed his instructions better than mine's, like what?? He knew he had that effect on me. I stopped and closed my eyes to suck in a deep breath, for I still had many things to do, many questions to ask, many eye-opening revelations to make and an entirely new chapter to write.
Author's note -
Heyyy people, it's me and I am back. lol, as if that wasn't clear. I am sorry but here is another story coming up and I don't know if you guys have connected the link until now but this is the story of the time that moron, Kartik hugged Naina and I thought of penning down the avatar of Naina which would inspire every girl and tell the world that something as small as a touch can make us pull away because we girls are taught, in fact trained to always keep our guard up because we never know what might happen when.
So, definitely share your opinions on this one and let me know hoe you liked it.
