The Discarded Soul
|Why the world is shackled in beauty norms?|
Vulture and Eagle both soar the skies
Then why is one ugly and another elegance defined?
The lane was dark and she could not find her way back home. No, she was not going back home. That was not home but an empty alliance of four walls and a roof. It was a conspiracy to bind her to a place where she, never belonged. She prayed that she losses her way tonight and goes somewhere else. She wanted to run away someday. the city throttled her breath and clipped her wings. The stares and jeering would never die down. She was claustrophobic and would stare longingly into the starry skies. It was as if the stars formed a web and even the open space of the entire universe could not free her.
She wanted to fly and may be to some other dimension where, this myth of time and space does not exist.
It was raining some four years before and she was passing through these dark lanes, uncharted. She mingled in the darkness and the darkness engulfed her. She was the one who was laughed at in the sunlight and found her solace in the dark. A light flashed past her pale frame and a man came running forward. She shot back her grey eyes at him and the man shrunk back in horror. Her silver hair, drenched now clung close to her face and shoulders. Her blouse now surrendered to the rains and showcased her eerily thin but beautiful frame.
The man wanted to scream in horror, but couldn't. Those eyes with their pink outlines and silver lashes terrified him. He fell down and let out a hollow scream as if he was staring in the eyes of death. Some of the boys standing, nearby came for the rescue and made things worse. They thought as if they too had seen the pale ghost. They hissed at her, slung mud at her. They knew that it was not a ghost but the weird girl next door. It was their duty to strip every thread of human left in her. We have a very thin threshold for defining normal and it is our duty to de-humanize anything beyond it.
Had it been not for the rain then her tears would have come visible.Strange, no matter what is the color of your skin, tears always remain colorless. Indeed sorrow and pain is a great leveler.
She went home smeared in mud and as she entered her room, there was an advert in television about a cream for fair skin. She smiled at the screen, and thought as if fair skin was the solution.
She was the fairest of all, an albino, she should have got the best of men and best of jobs. She should be confident enough to go and face the world, but then why she went out in the dawn and returned after dark? Venturing out was a sin despicable for her.
Isn't skinny supposed to be hot. She was skinny then why was she the "ghost".
It was like that ever since she was born. Be it four years back or any further, every day repeated itself in loop. She was really a ghost stuck in a time warp created by the people one dares to call society.
The world will show you a red flag no matter what spectrum you lie in. In the race of evolution we developed self only to discard life in bodies that we live in.