Corrupted Colors

You see me on TV and in the movies, you read about me in the papers, you despise me and call my life rotten and dull. But your wrong there, my life is more colorful than yours could ever be, in a way that I hate

Red, the color of my saree, my soft coat of arms that protects my delicate beauty from the shady eyes of the undeserving . But the saree is a formality at the moment , its purpose is more like the wrapper of a candy bar. In moments it will be torn open and I will be ravaged and consumed in more ways than one.

Brown, the color of my eyes, eyes that have seen the same massacre a hundred times. Eyes that were once lustrous and fresh like an ocean , flowing with tears of innocence. But now they are dry and empty, frozen in submission, unchanged by the brutal savageness that they see everyday.

Grey , the color of the skies that are filled with puffed up clouds. Clouds that will cry on my behalf, because I can no longer do so. My tears are a turn off to my customers. Customers who want me to pretend that I am hit with Euphoria, as if I loved serving them and their lust. They believe that my smile can help remove the guilt that hits their conscience when they look at their own daughters.

Green, the color that motivates my uncle, who also happens to be my employer . The same color that motivated him to poison my mother, so that he could become my guardian and many other things.

Pink the color of my mothers cheeks, when they blushed with happiness after I told her that I received a scholarship at the local college. We would spend hours dreaming and talking about all the things we would do after I was employed. They were little dreams made of a small one bedroom apartment and three square meals a day.

Inevitably, I was employed.

Blue, the color of my hard bound appointment book. I was a very busy woman and also the heart of the organization that I worked for. I service clients from all over the world and customer satisfaction is always guaranteed, hence I work with Everyone from the foreign ambassadors that visit to the local mafia heads . I have business meetings everyday in the most expensive suits of the best hotels in the city. My clients love me mainly for my troubleshooting abilities.

Most of them have been in the business for far too long, and have in turn depleted all their man power. Some have gotten bored of life itself and I help them rediscover themselves, some need a quick vacation spanning a few hours and I take them to the heavens. Others want me to even add a dash of drama, they want ferocity and real love. Many just use me as if I were a machine of sorts. At the end of the day I faithfuly deliver, without choice or emotion. I compare myself to a pay phone, drop the coin in and I’m forced to connect you to your deepest desires.

The very people who call me and my colleagues a whore by day, are the people you use me by night. Your wondering why I don’t say no? Why I don’t run away. That’s because my uncle loves me too much and he believes that the world is not a safe place for a pretty little girl like me. If I fail to comply, I’ll be fired.