‘Everything they say sounds right at times. But again, no. Would any man want all that for his daughter? But if, the study is right. No..no..no. That study isn’t right. It has a smell of tainted data. I am no expert, literally. I have respected the experts everywhere, except politics. And this is obviously politics. Gender politics. But again, if there’s just one gender that can run. Oh no, that’s worse. That’s slavery. Fuckkkk.’

I hit the steering wheel in disgust. I hear a loud horn. Back to senses. It’s the middle of the nowhere. How far have I come. I park off the road on a dusty nook. I get out of my car. Panting hard. “Who am I?” I shout to the sky.

Background: Mo, generally called Dr. Sah, PhD is a third generation immigrant. He had heard stories, rejected them, and married his long time girlfriend. Other than his dad, most of the family men weren’t as supportive of him when he chose to marry outside religion. He didn’t give a fuck. A PhD in Sufi literature, a poet in his youth. ‘Wooed her with her words’, he so proudly showed her off once 3 drinks down. Although he would be someone else 6 drinks down. But all that was before. Before the CHANGE. Well, it was kind of expected in the long history of civilization. Everything is bound to happen if things keep on changing quick without extinction. The history of female dominance has been scattered between tribes to provinces. Yeah, women understood leadership simple- Decentralized leadership, aka peaceful kingdoms, cut out the greed in men. So this change had to come too. But he didn’t really expect in his lifetime. But somehow it has come. The basic stage first. Men get to treat them however. Don’t kill your slave. Don’t waste hospital resources. You can even choose to be her slave, if you want. Men decide.

Nothing changed between him and […] for a while. The world was changing big time. A lot sooner. He was scared of leaving her alone even for tampons, not that he ever mind buying them. Legally she was his, married and all. But he wasn’t sure of laws anymore.

A long weekend, finally. Only the two of them. Cozy at home. Drinking, talking about society. She shared a few horrors she experienced at work. A nurse- man/woman everyone needs her. I tell her about the chaos at campus. Leashes, full nudity, hallway moans. In such a prestigious institute. Few more drinks, tears, poems, kisses. More drinks. Desires, rejection, anger, forced. Finally forced. Never was she ever so scared. Crying curled up on the floor, a cry unheard, ever from those lips.

And he, standing on the dusty corner now. Had never felt more manly than he did just then.

‘…’ = Thought bubble “….” = Vocal

Creativity over everything. Love you 😘