Shame

There was once a woman. In a book. Not a real one. Or she may have been. No one knows. If she lived between the flaps of its pages, or was for real. But there was a woman. 

Mundane-faced. Except somedays; invisible; until much later. Until she became a part of the book. The book talks about her past; in recollection. She was brought up within four walls of inhibition. Behind thick rimmed glasses. Upright pony tails. Hair oil. Long skirts. Half shoes. Velvety half shoes. Bitten nails. Novels hidden between school books. Every year in school remembered by the boy she was infatuated with in that year. Sometimes, a boy lasted years. Sometimes years wore out, but the boy stood steady. Love poems in secret personal diaries. Leaves pressed and preserved between its pages. Leaving grey-green impressions of their veins and vein-lets. 

College. Hours in libraries. Watching couples cuddle. Laboratories. Among chemicals and on aching toes. Long walks. Belly fat. Face packs. Straightening of wavy hair. And failing at it. Getting drenched. Watching rain. Not knowing a thing about where she was headed. Wondering if she would ever look back. Love songs blowing out of speakers, day long. Night long. First stories given a try. Ended unfinished. Due to the dearth of another character, besides the one who was invariably her. End of imagination. Fear of future. Yet a yelling freedom cry within. Wanting to break free; Come out; shy no more; Unleashed; become un-held. But couldn't. She waited for the right moment. Which hardly ever came. 

Later, she moved out. Into a far away city. In another continent. Became what is commonly understood to be a slut. Drank alone in bars. And slept with strange men. Another man; every night. Became what she truly was. Truly was. Or so she understood. Uninhibited. Letting out stifled feelings, of loveless years. She reveled in her anonymity. Celebrated the lack of shame.

Tired of seeking the answer; she fell in love with the question itself. 

And then she came back. Entered; center-stage. As a character in this book. As the lover of the protagonist.

Exiting my bookish fantasies; however; sometimes, she appears in front of me; like she were real. And talks to me. Just like now. Just like now.     


19 comments:

jnana said...

I love your writing

SilentSea said...

I reserve some special affection for characters who are invisible. Until much later. No protagonist should be able to claim that status from page one. It's much too unbecoming!

Surya Prakash V said...

Hmmmm.

Lehari. said...

The lack of Shame...not everyone can celebrate...im glad your imagination did ! :)

Surya Prakash V said...

I celebrate it too Lehari.

Between chained and bad, often bad is good.

Winter Song said...

Stunning writing!

wildflower said...

Jnana, thank you! What can I say, I sincerely hope I am making sense on this blog unlike in real life.

Silent, Of course, of course. He has to earn it. How else are we gonna buy it!

V, Thanks for your continued love-cum-support :) Grateful!

Lehari, Only my imagination does. Even I loathe shamelessness when it's outside of the written word. The question is, how do I get over this hatred.

Winter, Thanks, Hope to see more of you, hope to see more of me writing like this.

Tan said...

sometimes its good to be "insane" and celebrate shamelessness...

prateek mathur said...

Had she got the answer in college or even before that, would she have then let out her stifled feelings like she did? Does it imply that shame, or the lack of it, is a subject of circumstances and not an inherent trait?
You always leave me perplexed with questions! That's the beauty of your work!

Syed Ali Hamid said...

I also know such a person; he's a wanderer, a gypsy. Always talks to me whenever he passes by. I envy him but he doesn't envy me; a little change every time, in both. Am waiting to meet him half way.

................your's entirely said...

Marvelous ! U leave me speechless as always :)

wildflower said...

Amit, thanks. Means a lot.

Nina said...

this was FABULOUS. the first time I saw your blog. I'll definitely be coming back. :)

Merlin said...

Wavy hair suits her personality, she shouldn't straighten it!

wildflower said...

How would you know? You haven't seen her yet.

Merlin said...

You don't have to see her to know her personality, you have to imagine her. And when I imagine her, she looks better with wavy her, she shouldn't straighten it

wildflower said...

Ah, imagination. Thank God for imagination..where would we all be if we couldn't imagine.

Merlin said...

Or not. I would be in so much lesser pain if only I didn't think so much. Didn't imagine so much. If I was more superficial. It is my blessing. It is my curse. :)

wildflower said...

Tell me about it! Vicious circle.