Standing in front of the mirror,
Face to face with reality,
Dark it was, darker than her complexion.

She wondered if the love which she bore to him was incomplete,
She wondered if her fruits of care were adulterated with some unwanted element,
She wondered if the compassion she showed was ill-legal.

All her questions went unanswered.
She stood there. Still. Silence prevailed amidst noise of her inner turmoil.
The mirror seemed to just replicate her image but the answers were not audible.
She pressed closer to the mirror but unlike love, clinging closer to something does not always give you the momentarily satisfaction you are searching for.

Red. Blue. Black.
Happiness. Light. Sorrow.
Today, in the streets of Sonagachi another story of unrequited love was unraveled and raveled.

No! Her love was not incomplete,
No! Her care was not adulterated,
Probably, her compassion was ill-legal. But it was her work. Everyone does not have a choice to make.


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