Saturday, July 21, 2012
Story of a modern disease.
You are going to read about a girl. Can we address her as ‘she’? Oh yes, I think you can.
Call her ‘ she’ or actually, call her whatever you want, she just want to know that you are listening.
She likes feeling good, just like you do, but sometimes it’s impossible. She still manages somehow. She will love you a lot but that can’t evade a major problem she has. She is suffering from a bizarre disease and has been picked on for it, ever since she spilled into her mother’s womb.
She likes to be herself.
Disgusting, right? She has been told that.
Wherever she goes, she bares herself. She talks she like would, she spews out thoughts in cups, she lets her tongue wring on papers, she wants her mother to see her disease. You should understand how disappointed her parents are with this deformity. Clearly, she has no morals or sensibility to understand them. She is outrageous and has dared to love too. A man. A strange man. Skank, did that too.
Loving, desiring someone while being ‘yourself’, she is in a desperate need of therapy. You must agree. So on a sunny day, her parents took her to a hospital to remove that ‘yourself’. People in her family thought that she stank of ‘yourself’. She started hiding it in longer shirts and drab shoes, people say it would help her become better but still, how sad, ‘yourself’ sprung over her face like fire.
Worse, she stopped hiding it.
It had a distinct smell that her house hated, people questioned and only a very few people, captured it in tiny bottles to store in their heads. Doctors frisked her pants for the cause of her ailment. She writhed on the stretcher.
It leaks through the skin like puss, her mother thinks. Being ‘yourself’ is the worst thing a good child should do. It's mortifying, Oxford dictionary can add-flabbergasting, blasphemous, horrendous. It's so fucking obvious and why can't she choose something better? Earn money and let this down die down. Walk freely on streets and let this die down.
She is still ‘yourself’ after countless storms in hospital rooms, therapy rooms, family rooms, rape rooms, doomed rooms, class rooms, temple rooms, roomless rooms and she has to be helped.
If you have any constructive feedbacks or numbers of helpful doctors, please inbox her parents.
They will acknowledge your effort.
(Want more of this- Winks, poems, whispers and doodles like the one of top? Come over at, sootahwords.blogspot.in)