“Aseen sajna tuti yaari da, ajj tak afsos manaunde rahe…
Tusee heera gawa ke khush phirde, asee pathran laay pachtaunde rahe”
I am nursing my broken heart, and still mourning for it till date,
You are happy losing a diamond, I am still regretting the loss of a pebble.
She was hurled out the car by the man she loved. She was drunk, drugged and high. Wandering on the streets aimlessly in the dark of the night, she sized up her past two relationships. They were more physical than emotional. Emotional at her end, but the men, only wanted her body. She couldn’t see it. Everyone tried to show her the truth. She defied.
She did not want to believe them, because she believed him. He wouldn’t commit. Yet, she believed him. There were red lights every time they spoke about marriage. Yet, she believed him. He would avoid talking about ‘us’. She had never been in any of his future plans. Yet, she believed him.
Today, when he unceremoniously hurled her out of his car, bang on the highway, in a state of stupor, her eyes suddenly saw what everyone was trying to show her. It was her body he had wanted all along. It was only sex. No love. She was dazed at the realization. All alone.
Passersby look at her – wierdo. She is talking to herself.
I am a commodity. You never loved me. I am only a commodity. How dare you do this to me. You knew HE had used me too, before you. Yet, you did the same thing to me. Nobody sees the heart that beats inside a woman’s body. A woman is only the sum total of her physical assets. You know what? So be it. If that is what it is, then that is what it is gonna be.
She is seen at red light areas now – in the same stupor, red-shot eyes and swaying in lilting dresses. People still use her. Use her body. At least, this time, she knows that that is what they want from her. At least, this time, they won’t take her heart and mangle it into a million bloody shreds. At least, they pay her now. She can always buy those drugs and keep herself high. Until her last breath. Bastards.
Built from: Heroine, Fashion and The Dirty Picture