you unload the day’s burden
and stash it in the crevices of your mind
it’s been humongous, tiring, draining
for years you’ve been carrying it with fortitude
*
you remove the heavy red bindi
and stick it on the washroom mirror
it waits till sunrise when you reapply it
to brighten up your wan, listless face
*
tired unslept eyes, dull unkempt hair
frame the reflection in the tall mirror
it’s gilded, just like your glorified existence,
but ignored are the scratches on its soul
*
can you hear me? – it screams – unbar the windows
let the sun stream in, let the fresh air rejuvenate me
you wash your tear laden face, square your shoulders
and set out to fight the battles, yours and others
*
Hang in, tarry a little, O woman,
the world wouldn’t fall apart, my lady
if you don’t offer everyone your frail shoulders
to hang their expectations, to squeeze out their happiness.
Can you hear me? Relax, the red bindi can wait for a day.
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