For that one night I felt I was a man with No Balls !!!
I saw her trembling, I saw her trying to say something with the silence around her, even in the middle of a tube station with so many people walking by during rush hour and the announcements on the speakers there was a strange silence around her, a silence that I felt, a silence that said more than words could have said, the silence of beauty in an ugly world of reality, the silence that merged with the spatter of every rain drop, the silence that merged with the tap of every expensive shoe or a sandal up or down the stairs, the silence that broke all barriers of speech and simply said - "HELP ME".
Following question was asked by a dear friend...
With the help of a novel 'Seven Steps in the Sky', I've tried to point out some irrationalities in the way a woman, especially a married woman is treated. The book revolves around the married life of a woman and a few of her female friends and relatives. She was born in a middle class family in a town and was married in an upper-middle class family.
Man's greatest desire is for freedom. Freedom within thyself is a longing within humans. Freedom is the very essential core, the soul, the driving force behind human consciousness: Love is its circumference and freedom is its center. These two fulfilled, life has no regret. And they both are fulfilled together, never separately. The very essence of love is being free, is being set free, the very point is the feeling of being able to spread your wings and fly freely, to be liberated, to be able to feel existence in purity. 
Random memories of my graduation years and the English literature lectures suddenly struck a chord with the pseudo feminist part of me & I realized how every poet, author, philosopher who had written of women always made it a point that the women they wrote of or spoke of always came across as beautiful & serene. And by beautiful I do not mean just the physical embodiment of the female body but also the fact that they made it a point that women were compared to everything blissful & pure and yet the comparison always lead to the conclusion that women are more beautiful, bold, pure & individualistic than any other element of life like water & a wet woman, fire & the passion, wind & the fun, earth & the beauty...
She had got accustomed to the habit of taking really long baths. This had nothing to do with her enjoying taking baths, or anything to do with hygiene or cleanliness but more to do with the fact that this was possibly the only time of the day she could really be wit herself, be with the soul that lie dead somewhere within her, be with the part of herself that she kept buried in the abyss of the human life, a life she wanted but on her terms, a life she desired but hated, a life she loved yet felt helpless.
The buzzing of the fly resonates in my ear like someone was beating a drum. The silence is loud in a way I had never imagined before. The distant skyline was all pink with a hint crimson just a while ago but now it seems all deathly grey and pale. Such is the colour that it reminds me of a face. A face that has long lost its charm. But a face that might have looked better when it grew old. The lovely jaw structure would have softened by then, fine lines shaping the face at the corners and crinks around the eyes indicating a life well spent.
“Love makes you do strange things…” yeah whatever thought Kiki. Time and again someone, somebody and even nobody, had rubbed it in her face the thing about love! Okay so it was a four letter word and meant the world to many a fool.
She was late today. It was fifteen minutes passed three. It was past her usual ‘ciggy break’ time. Sid had known all her timings. This would be her fifth cigarette for the day. And if she had the time, she would smoke a joint.