I...

I wonder how you make quadrants of my legs,

as if they are your morning newspapers!
But believe me, cheap comments and looks are not what it begs,
then why do you measure my clothes, as if you are a draper?

If I wear a skirt which covers my ankle,
then I am matronly,
and if above that length, then I am prude.
I smile on those who does not even behave patronly,
rather when we object, call us rude.

Knee is the border which separates my sheen from my thigh,
as if it is the India-Pakistan border which stands tall and high;
creating difference between human beings carrying same blood,
And here a picture of a dress above my knees,
makes the comment box flood.

Flood that bring waves of lusty comments.
Just because I wear two inches short garments.
Inches that you use to measure my breasts,
Just like laughing on my bra and its straps,
inside which it rests.

If I cut few more inches from that imaginary border which you gave to us,
you think that I am asking for it, and you just start to cuss.
If my 'foolish' act cuts few inches more,
you term me cheesy, slut or sometimes a  whore!

I wonder why size does not matter to you
as it does for us.
Or maybe it does, because when I by mistake, term your muscle small
you do create a fuss.

Fuss that converts into the rape of mine,
to prove that your small muscle does erect as well;
leaving us on the scale of your measurement,
just to show that your small muscle can also really swell.

~ Debojit Chakraborty