50. ||FRAGILE||

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I have been labelled as the strongest woman in Indian history.

The woman
Who broke social norms
Sacrificed her all
All being her beloved
Who fortunately, unfortunately happened to be
A God.

Truth to be told, Krishna
I am not that strong
I am so incredibly fragile
Like that peacock feather of yours.
Yes, that's who I am
I sway to your tunes
Every breath in my body
Every atom of my being
Is living for your music
And the soft, nonchalant whispers of yours
What they do to me, you've no idea.

The blood in my veins
Runs because you are
And you are
So I am.

Tell me, Krishna?
How do you expect me to be then
After the feather
The music
The whispers
You
Left?

No one knows.
No one shall ever know.
Not even you do
Or will.

For I have
Not let anyone ever know.

Don't buy those folklores, Krishna
They're untrue.
I have not let anybody know
What I became
What happened to me
What I felt
After that fateful day.

For I knew it would reach your ears
And you might be my all
But I am not selfish.
I would not let my love
Come in between you
And Your worldly duties.

I knew, always
One day you would come home
Tired, exhausted
And once in the entirety of history
You would
Ask me to sing to you
And put you to sleep.

And that has made me live
All my life
In apparent serenity.

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