I’m a Rainbow

Shall we play a game? Everybody knows how to play this game. For you, it is too simple – child’s play.

You have a box of board tacks. Of assorted color. Some plain and round, some fancy and star-shaped.

Attached to each tack is a label. To win, push the correct tacks – one round, one star – when given the correct visual cue.

If you push in all of them, quickly and correctly, you can go back all smug and smiling – to the winner’s spot – moral high-ground.

All that you have to do is sit and watch for me. .  or even stand around –  anywhere you please – the roadside,  college corridors, mall benches, office cubicles, market places, temples, homes, even my own home!

Wait for me to dress up and then swiftly push in the correct tacks – at the right places.

Each round tack goes along with a star tack – they carry ‘correlated’ labels.  Pairing them is a breeze. They are even color-coded for ease. Brown to purple. Stable blue to Fun Orange. Inviting Green to Pink that pulls to Seductive Red.

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The Closet

She wrote a beautiful poem..

About LGBT rights and acceptance of “alternate” sexuality.

Her readers brought in more to her blog. . all too moved by the poem.

He did too. . kept reading it a couple dozen times with suppressed tears.

And then she wrote in the comments section..

“Btw, just to clarify, I am straight 🙂 :)”

Those sweet smileys burnt him a wee bit..

They pointed out that the “acceptance” was a favor.

That clarification hurt him a wee bit..

It reminded that “inclusion” was a one-way road.

She and her friends would graciously include him in their circle..

But they would never come forward to get included in his “exotic” circle.

He could come out of his closet any day.

They never would come out of theirs..

A pretty, transparent, glass closet..

Key-less..

Only, displayed proudly in the living room!

From a Partial Mother to a Hurt Son.

Updated (25th April 2012) : 

CGirl is on a break from this space, and does not want to go into serious thinking, discussing, debating mode. Hence, comments are closed on this post for the time being. Ciao.

Updated (16th April 2012) : 

NOTE : I shall no longer reply to comments on this post. Because : a) I have said all that I had to say already b) I can see that we aren’t actually debating – just arguing. c) I do not want to argue endlessly

So, thanks for commenting, and sorry for not responding.
The topic can be taken forward by readers if you wish. I shall simply approve comments from this point.

Son, you know I’m a mother of two. I have you – who is all that is bright, capable, energetic and wise. You are a little tiger cub roaring and raring to take on the world. And your brother, who is crippled by birth. He is bound to his wheel-chair.

I know I am partial towards him. More attention to him. More care to him. Softer with him. Partial to him.

You are hurt to the point of being estranged. It is unfair. I know.

But.. I have only two hands and can only do so much.

Can’t let him go out alone into the world. He can’t survive by himself. Kids throw stones at him when he walks using his crutches.

He may have been given a wheel-chair.. But your argument that “he is mobile now. he doesn’t need special treatment anymore” is weak.

He may have wheel-chairs.. But ramps for wheel-chairs are not yet a default facility in buildings.

And of course, he can not take public transport. He still needs someone to lift him occasionally

If he drops a sheet of paper, he still needs someone to bend to pick it up for him.

He needs special attention. He is easily prone to depression, low self-esteem …. I need to stand by him till he is no longer insecure. Insecurity isn’t a crime, you know. It happens. Quite commonly. Especially in those who have been leading crippled lives.

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