That Feminist Writing

Those bodily dressings...

So the other day while sitting in ccd, I was reading with a lot of concentration. I had my full focus right there in every line, only that sudden abrupt moment to make me go offline. A sudden glare of affection for some sudden moment, there on the other table , went my heart’s dent. Beauty indeed is one lusty abstract. It takes you to that world so vague, far off from facts.

So there collided my heart to encounter a spectacular guy. He was handsome indeed aah such venusian highs. But then I was a female and had all its courtly arrogance and ego. I went back to my work without a hint of try. But the guy too had undergone similar trailings. They were all magnatisms of the other sex.

So I -sitting oblivious of any such happenings - tried to focus on those same lines no more happening. But then he came suddenly with a vague reason. There I was caught – in those gestures with treason. Nevertheless i maintained that charm and stoic expression. But he wooed that conversation through a strange fascination.

So then the talks grew right in few moments. There in front of all – the staff and some audience. He offered his number - For some reason. But i had my very own illusions. So i maintained the lady like attitude. There I took his number - as a due. But no,  i didn’t offer my no. I said I would call him soon whenever in slumber.

And deep inside with an ego satisfied I sat there confidently. So what if weirdly dressed, I had then been approached formerly. And so i decided not to give my no. Cause then it would be considered a lady’s fall. So maintaining your respect comes from this society. whatever its notions are, whatever its artificiality.

But, I wonder, what if i provide my no. To him and interact – to find out who he is to be exact. And explore may be some unknown dimensions - Some new choices, some new functions. And undergo the sensations of going through his psychology. And map it all inside my head – like a piece of geology. After all, we are all – books – only with hidden pages. How would it feel to enter those different cages. And let those souls be out for some time. And create new songs with numerous rhymes.

So should I maybe give my no. To him and explore – those unknown blue depths, those magnificent shores. How would it feel to dive and lay there in the sand .how would it feel to hold a solid hand. But wouldn’t it be a challenge to my independent status? Wouldn’t it be a big question-mark upon my freedom – apparatus?

But then I want to call him mine too- If not mine, then of my my follower’s crew. What if he is worth a keep. But would I be able to tolerate in every instance – his peak. Men are once possessive lot I must say. Sugar-coated they come, lavish they lay. But when it comes to a single later stage – like that where the woman wants to leave that cage, well they outleash their real shades – black and red – knives and blades .

And I suddenly hear those shrills and cries in that house beside. This – this violence is man’s real side. They take out their love and take out their frustration. Woman – the sponge – his woman – his fascination.
and yet, I think I would give my no. after all.

Mystical Wanderer