Ms. Disheartened

 How much I wish to go back, back to my home, where I belong. A place where I won't be judged, scolded or scooped out of emotions. The beloved fest of Holi greeted me at the door, asking me to thank it for granting the immense opportunity to celebrate. But with what face should I reveal to it that the colors on my face do not, in any circumstances behold the bliss in me for I am Ms. Disheartened

Colors rose in air, clearing the polluted environment with something more beauty worthy. People with smiles color coded the bodies, painting anything and everything they found around them. Dogs were busy barking their fuss, but people lose senses when senses lose sense to pay attention to the tiniest details around them. Walking about in the office corridor, I was busy rattling around my arguments to my colleagues. The company had a major loss, and my superior was no less than a demon himself to order me to divert my attention to this non bailably tense futuristic issue. Taking a tissue in hand to wipe down my tears, not for the pain of job but separation. Separation of years, troubling me since 19. I couldn't wish for anything more. My cryptic mind rebuked the emotions and dived deep into material topics that awaited my response. Before the rattling, a Bollywood scene had opened up. Upon reaching, everyone was busy stuffing mouths and stomachs with sweets and wishes but my mind in its own world was searching for a solution. Without thinking about anything else, I bulged like a storming cloud and immediately transformed the weather. To this, my colleagues had their own psychic and physiologically upsetting reactions. I tolerated the expressions and moved on with the speech. But was this the way? My anger had this way of stoppage. The questions in mind were running at a 2x speed. Would they have loved to see their daughter like this? Wasn't this immoral? Are you for real? The story would end but not the questions.

My superior barged in right after my fascinating performance of shouting at my coworkers. His response was silent. So that so I knew his next step. A letter head with inverted pen and wavy eyebrows. Perfect preparation for any Holi. This Holi after all was not so Holy for me. Spirituality within me was craving for an action but my materially equipped mindset killed it with a sword of lust, anger and jealousy. My touring letter of suspension was given to me and soon enough I had another job. But was I contented enough? The answer to this question always searches for opinions but is failed by statements from body and mind. Blood greeted me and I surrendered to it without looking for the band aid that was waiting to heal me of my wound. The destiny to my failure made me even depressed and I myself did the honor of assigning myself the tag name- Ms. Disheartened