15 Aug -2011

AN OLD PIECE DEDICATED TO A FRIEND

15 Aug -2011

Its 3am in the night, as I sit alone now and see the nation preparing for our so called independence day. Dipped in promises and the things that have been achieved, today, strangely I feel as low as a dog who would see things happening around it and the best it could do is bark and be unheard of.

Yeah, I do feel like that.

When I started to write commercially, all I wanted was to write the truth, but till date it just remains to be one of those dreams!

Independence day- talks about our freedom, but what does freedom mean?

Right to express, right to be free, right to be happy, right of not to be used?

Balls!

A phone call from a friend, stating, how an influential media personality tried to feel her body in a party, made me realize that I am also a part of this so called show biz, that has been a whore trace of the few who have the money and except for their wife's daughters and mothers, all the other girls are a commodity to fuck and use. Piece of harlot’s ehh!

Guess what!

Fuck you motherfuckers, for, I deny to be a part of you, and be seen in the same capacity as you.

She said…

“Sandy, why do people try to think lowly of you, just because you go to these show biz parties (she had to as she is into communication field)? Why do people who are as old as my father, try to peep into your clothes and make you feel like a slut? Why do we just have to be taken as a mannequin made of real skin and flesh? We come out of our houses, expecting to make a good and respectful living out of our brain and the talent that we might possess, but people always want to just sneak into our pants...is this right?"

I, obviously had no answer! Ironically, the culprits always remain free and are never...

I might have slept with 100 girls but I never have made any girl feel like a slut or a prostitute. For, my anger now resides with me in my words and its starting to dawn, for me to feel the senses going slow and make me feel ashamed of this independence day, where the souls of honestly are still the fuck worms of the chosen few and have to report to their palace of fuck-itude every fucking day.

I also realize, how low we as humans can get while we talk and make promises to the people who cry in dark because of the way we make them feel to be something that they are not....

It’s raining now, the night with a full moon stays dark for me to stop my tears today, to tell and convince my soul that boy- it’s ok, this is how it is.

Fuck this! I am now a soul fucker. I am a human and my tears to the story make me feel like one.

But, I feel for my friend and for her reality. Was this the independence day she was to see, were these the relations she had to share, were these the people she was to consume her breathe around?

Talk to me about our fucking independence day and tell me I can take names of people like the heads of Zee Networks and tell me a place it would be heard at besides my sketch book? Tell me where I can be me and tell it all for all to see and that no one is free yet.

For my guilt have captured me badly now and for me, I can just shade a tear of agony and look for a bath that could wash it all away.

I am sorry, but today ...I won't be celebrating; The Independence Day!