Suggestively she moved her hips.

Emboldened, he moved forward.

But the look in her eyes stopped him.

It was a test.

Again.

“Not again” he muttered petulantly.

She laughed at him then.

He felt some powerlessness, even hatred.

A lot of hatred.

She meant nothing to him.

Lowly trash.

SHE MEANT NOTHING TO HIM.

His manliness was hurt.
His sense of himself

Of his own worth

Of his own existence

And her nothingness.

In the night.

He tossed around.
Sleepless…….muttering

About her non-existence.

His mother wrung her hands

“His association with her would only bring him grief.”

Thought his mother.
His father read a book throughout it all

His father’s rage was silent.

One knew.

Even in his silence.

But the man didn’t care

The woman was a property and she was refusing to be owned.

It infuriated him.

It enraged him.

It aroused him.

It doused his fires and then kindled them back again.

One day it all happened.

Suddenly it did

His mother shook herself as she thought of that day.
Shook herself bitterly and furious.
She should have known it was coming.

Her son married a whore

Married her and brought her past their sacred doorstep

The father shook in impotent rage

That is when Ambedkar walked into their house.

Calmly he stepped in.

So calm, you could hear a pin drop

When I walked past that house, I hear whispers.

I hear laughter

I hear the sound of my sister.

Laughing.

Always laughing.

I went to Ambedkar that night.

“Help me too” I said

He smiled kindly.

I lay my head on his lap

“Are you my father?” I asked.

He laughed.
Are you a God? I asked fearfully.

He laughed louder.

“No I am not” he said.

“But you are.

A goddess.”

I bowed my head that night.

I slept

Tomorrow.

Its mine……….

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