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"Colours" by Debojit Chakraborty

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hashtag me too hashtag survivor hashtag askew hashtag heifer These are not, just a bunch of hashtag(s), but are the reflection of how much you brag, to showcase your actions; but alas, you did not realise what would be the reactions. Actions like holding her hand and pressing it hard like a monster, when she was just three years old. She did not even think of protesting at all, because to your false love and fake trust was she sold. You were appointed to improve her grade. Instead "I am just helping you to write properly" was what you said. Yes, hashtag me too. I was a harassed by my tutor. hashtag me too hashtag living hashtag accrue hashtag grieving These are not, just a bunch of hashtag(s), but are the results of your lust. To feel the luscious curves of my body and to grope my big round bust. To grope my butt under the bench, during the boards exam, because your lust woke up and you started to cram. When asked, you replied that you merely...
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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, an...
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