Monica My Darling!

You offensive woman! Red, blue, green... you had all the options in the world... but you settled for black; Trust, love, relationships... and what! You went for sex? Fortune favors the brave but the brave ones favor you. They favor you.. like you; they love you. Love not lust remember, as good guys have penned 'sex' as 'love making' in those good books they keep under their beds. And oh, its like an 'operational manual' of their tiny love making factories, where both the product and the producer needs to be cost effective and energy efficient with on-time consistent performance. No half measures, the passion for work is crucial here.

Anyway its not about them; its about you. And its about your lovely lonnnnggg legs. And yeah, its about your amazingggg curv... Ahem. See, I favor you.. the fortune will have to favor me some day.

This world's an strange place Monica. Makes one feel weird. And I believe you are someone un-fittingly hot in this rather frozen vicinity... over crowded with crumbly creatures on university benches, touchy minnows in papa's luxury chariots and psychotic feminists with bomb like butts and over-sized bust. The originality of your senses may not be greeted with consensus of the average minds, but that hardly matters. You have always been yourself.. so be that way. Coming out of your room in pyjamas to greet chubby relatives on Eid... or scaring off aunty Shakeela's 'educated' son with your untamed mannerism in Razia aapa's valima... or hey do you remember our last Mexican eat out when you winked at that bald uncle constantly staring at you since we entered that restaurant? Haha.. how embarrassed he got remember.

Oh, it has always been you and I know, if we meet after 25 years from today, I would find you the same. Its easy not some rocket science to understand yeah. And its easier on your side... because you actually don't have slightest of an idea of how to be someone else. You are not a 'property' of anyone.. Not even your parents. My sympathies with your to-be 'patti parmeshwar' but what can we do. You're like a bird you choose your own flight, not like those green 'round' tennis balls. Consistently hit by the game players; your parents and your husband, travelling zig-zag, up-down.. same monotonous movements over that flat court identified as your life. I believe the adventures of the so called 'blasphemous' flight is a lot more significant that the deafening applause of those irrelevant spectators; your family, relatives and friends... enjoying the tennis match out of your life.

I know you like black. I know you prefer sex. But there is one thing I am dying to tell you today...

Monica. You are my Darling.

Image: *m0thyyku