Women in the end

Women end up in atrocities to objects, animals and humans in a typical manner, I found it out in one of those, “Ohh so opportune moments.”

Lingering within me for days now was a small, negligible desire when compared to the vast universe of desires.

It was as simple and as humble, as it could be…

“I want to meet Sheena.😩 Long time, time no see…out of sight but not out of mind, of course.

Now, Joseph Moreno, her father greets me one day while jogging in the park, both trying to loose our Ohh! So voluptuous structures. He had a reason called diabetes and hypertension and I had a reason called Beauty consciousness. Precisely standing at the age of 35 an unwed woman, looking like a jelly bean was something I adamantly opposed and on a fine day, leaving behind the attachment I had obnoxiously developed towards the jellybean structure, I travelled faster than the escape velocity (11.2 km/second) only to land up aside Dr. Moreno.

“Ohh hi girl, how are you doing my child..You have grown so….”

“Yes uncle, hence I stand beside you.” I lamely answered.

Well, quite obvious it seemed to me how much I have changed myself over the years or perhaps life changed me. Well, actually I can’t say who changed who? The result matters at the end of the day, not efforts after all, these days, I must say.

After a lot of sitting on the nearby wooden bench in different postures, we decided it was time to leave the golden olden days behind and to move forward.

Staring at the watch we noted there was no time to do exercise, the gates were closing, only to open the next day.

We had to run behind the watchmen so that I was not left out alone in the park, stuck with an old uncle who was almost my father.

Imagine the severity of such loneliness…Ten years on a row, two people father daughter alike, bad memories to share, loads of tears, various aunts whom he dated and now took pride in his meagre memories of those ladies who now walked aside barely recognising him, with sagging breasts and a high end pony tail with daughters and sons running around them like postcards and cellphones run around important officials, fat unmeasured and thick, with jowls that dragged their eyes down, for topics of discussion leaving apart current affairs and hateful marriage and dating proposals, it seemed scary as I imagined all this while I ran to the gate. At one point, I overtook him in this state of mind, shuddering deep within at the very thought of being stuck.

Finally we bailed ourselves out of the gate and a few hard words gifted along by the watchmen with some bare advices on how to be not late to go out of the gates.

“Why don’t you come home, Sheena is sad, her fourth break up. Even I was hopeful about the guy this time. But, your generation to hell with.”

To be contd.

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