Of Sex And All That
Photo Credits : The Nebula Quiet by Kira Issar
Location : Model's appartment, Gurgaon
Her mother stared at her from across the table. In those eyes, she saw the face of years of cultural conditioning, which was now taking the shape of remorse and disgust - the anger flowing like a steady stream of water on the canvas . . .
It was all chaos. Her world was falling apart. She blindly climbed the flight of stairs and reached the apartment. Standing in front of the french window, she examined the massive expanse of the land that lay before her. Barren and empty like her own . . .
She pressed the disconnect button and threw the phone in full force. It banged against the wooden cupboard and fell open. The child came running and wondered what had happened. A wave of frustration arose in her. Anger, despair, . . .
I watched them liking enslaving writings. Writings about the lovers they lost,
the battles they fought and the depressing stuff. They joyously spent,
a dozen and a half minutes, in reading poems of heartbroken girls . . .
He had always accused her of being too emotional. Even as she sobbed through the pain in her hand, he said don’t cry like a child. The last she heard him was in the air, a few thousand miles above the European continent, . . .