Dark Maroon

7f507456044c19e11bba286ec244c912.jpgThere is a side to women only seen in movies, or said to exist only in movies. Somethings only happen behind the walls of an all girls school or inside the ladies restroom. Sure, we talk about everything and I mean everything. we curse like sailors, as well.

We hold a girl’s hand, lift it and pull it close, exclaiming how beautiful her ring is. We run behind a girl who has dropped her jhumkey. We run for a girl who needs a pad, we run into our common rooms, screaming for a pad because we can relate to her need. We have stepped on a girl’s dupatta then bent down and dusted it off as an apology. The distance between seeing your friend and greeting her is spent in checking her top to bottom, noticing what is new and what suits her most; that is how we compliment. Our smiles are partially for our friends but mostly to the effort she puts into her make up and clothing regularly.
“you look so pretty”
“thank you, so do you”
“okay, bye, I have a class!”
we will smile for no reason but because a girl’s eyeliner is too beautiful to ignore. We appreciate a matching lipstick like appreciating a gift. We have waited outside the bathroom stall, holding our friend’s items because the stable among the sink is too wet. We all know what each other’s make up bag looks like, colors and everything. I have bought too many Medoras for my friends to remember. We always know which bag to find tissues in and which to find pads in. My bag has the eyeliner and hand sanitizer. We have permanently let each other have our clothes because we figured the color was not half as much us as it was them.
“konsa shade hai ye?”
In our common rooms, we mostly lie down, I have never seen someone sit up straight. My head in my friend’s lap, our friend’s head on another’s shoulder and we could stay like that forever. Between lectures, we nudge the other to look at the table, to look at our hand writing saying we love them. Sometimes we smile in response, other times we curse and laugh silently. Except, my laughter is never silent.
If a pin is pushed out of a hair bun, we pull the girl back and set it. Lipstick on teeth, unnecessary threads and tags, smudged eyeliner, we always let her know.

We hold more than we hug. In the corridors, we will stand for several minutes just holding each other and patting their back. In this, some breakdown, some smile.

All of this matters too much to ignore.


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