Tawaif
I hate that woman on the other side of the mirror. That is not me. I don't lie. She does. She makes me believe false promises.
Ah love is such a tempting promise! Even if it comes from a drunkard. My eyes greedily look into his, as I pour him some sweet mead. He is greedy too. All for this love that wont survive a night. Then he goes, leaving me and the pitcher empty. Did you hear my sobs, when the song paused?
The singer is sleepy now. It is almost dawn, and there is another. No I have had enough. I wont look at him.
Let my door be closed. Let me not see him go away. Let the door hold the promise of my last love.
I pretend I did not hear him say "Ranth!" I listen to her, the woman on the other side of the mirror. She tells me I am a queen. I smile. Then I sleep in the soothing rays of the sun.
A lot happens in this part of the world.
About Me
Talking Monks
Thoughts
3 comments:
awesome...
i also want to something like that..
may be someday i will...
a reply sort of for this one..
Do ypou even know the ordeals of being the other woman? I am not deft with words as you but surely more deft with my emotions.
But am proud of you.
However think of life, emotions, relationships... not things easily understood but beautiful.
For me the Tawaif is not a created figure. She is me when I crave for love. So, I do not see her as the other woman.
I agree. Relationships can be very queer. Defining them will be limiting them too. But yes, they are beautiful.
Post a Comment