Bullying, Buttering, and Battling: The Habits of Rakshasas of Our World 🕸️

The raindrops fulfill the space of void the scorching sun has placed☔. The weather has been a constant struggle, resonating with checking emails of geniuses places for interviews. We hope to find hope with notifications of black clouds or a bird sound through technologically advanced instruments. In the middle of struggles and laughter, two messages on the same day welcomed my flight mode.

"Hey! When will you come to Lucknow? I want to meet you." The message was from a bully from 2017. Before I lose all my memories, I have to write this so that I remember the arrow-shaped scar on my left arm is left by the betrayal of my own roommates. Allah says in the Quran that a human doesn't have two hearts. It brought in the idea that either they're good or bad. The choice and responsibilities are bestowed upon them. To this day, I shiver at how the bond of sharing tea, biscuits, and lending laptops was all a sham.

The screams, taunts, hurtful words seeped through my ear, entered my heart, scratched it deep, and made a haunted house with poisonous bushes in my memories, next to the abandoned house of my beloved. His death was less painful than the actions he poured out when he was alive. His ashes should have been scattered on brothels' beds, streets, and windows. Why? For the homage of his kind deeds in return for money. Pleasure in exchange for money. 

My bullies have been married and are research scholars in their final year of PhDs. One of them works in a private bank in an extremely high position. I learned this unwanted news from her way of apologizing through a random Instagram request and the cycle of declining through days. Another's partner is a poet, and she glows and laughs. She offered me apology on a plate of empathy last year when she learned I forgive people easily. Do I? Their words of sympathy plunged into the dark section of my soul, where lies my crippled, old self, overburdened with suffering, ache, and torment like hell on earth. I stopped eating with the fear of them holding me in the kitchen with tongs and burners. Their deeds were well ignored by Lucifer. The Demon knew well the fiend amongst me, scarier than his tribe.

My deceased partner used to tell me how His mother asks to he a man of "Take Revenge and Never forget." Will it be disrespectful if I do the same with her child with access of freud's theory in his personality? It would have been easy if he were alive. His death brought remorse to my heart of never being able to confront the scratches he left while hiding the truth of consuming drugs, having multiple affairs, and ruining his own dignity for fun. Our child would have been under extreme trauma with phyco father who had a face like that of an innocent man. Is it brutal to think of Reyansh's ashes in the places his phallic(male reproductive organ) has always been? 

Absolutely not! It is overflowing from the heart of a person whose husband played brilliantly the role of an innocent man lost in the world of despair, "no one ever loved me like that, Mayra." The reason resonate now. He was an evil, selfish, lust addict man of honour. The honour Rakshashas talk about. Today on his memory, I call him The Head of Rakshasas of the lust, and evil guidance. 

Flattering people with fake charisma, and sugar-coated innocence can lead on to the sharp edged death, where people want to die but can't die. It is like holding onto a dead body rotten, covered with brain eating bacterias, and larvae. 

Do you think forgiveness is for double faced Ogre?

My brain wails, "No!"

Holding a pen, bleeding blood with ink in my journal, reminds me of the see-saw my life has witnessed. Sometimes it's the laughter and joy, other times it's broken or the child is left unsafe. The idea of a single playground equipment turns out to have different outcomes for different people. Aren't we all different, just like fingerprints, since the first man on earth? Interestingly, people aren't scared of death and the aftermath of the deeds they did, but fear man-made haunted cinematic gestures. They fear izzat in front of their own society, but don't care how they killed someone by planting them on a pedestal just to make them fall, by punching them till their face is dismantled and their body bleeds. They murdered someone without taking away their soul.

Rakshasas in the human world aren't jinns, satan, lucifer, or belzebub, but a curly-haired girl with a heart of envy, a man with top educational certificates but with a white heart as weak as a snowflake, and a woman who tends to laugh and call you 'sister' from junior classes but ends up donating your clothes and books, which you lent to her like her own sister. The three faces shine in my face till my eyes burst into tears, and the surroundings come down with buckets of guilt and regret - the emotion that devours happiness.

If you feel a tinge of pain because of another person, inform them, discuss, and leave. Closing the main entrance would save your garden from being caught by moths, plant-eating aphids, termites, and beetles. After devouring your garden of joy, they'll end up eating you. It's never too late to confront evil with revenge, kindness, or punishment. Make sure you at least inform close people or the world how the world becomes a curse to have barbaric human like them. They're the Rakshas of their own desires, and have a heart with infected pus.

Life is twinkling Watermelon 🍉  ✨  without the presence of unwanted storms,  and traffic of colleuges,  friends, long forgetten relative whose only intentions were to bring down the sparkles, grace, dynamism you own. 

So, hold onto the trauma, triggers, depression, their rotten memories, and eat Watermelon while sprinkling some pepper salt to fruit and their presence.

The essence of home will be found within yourself between the rustling of leaves 🍃, brightness of crescent moon 🌙, walking with friends to the new book store 📚 , and wrapping brown paper with your first painting to your favourite human on their special day. 🏡 So, reshape your house, to make it home with graceful guests, and lovely friends.