I Am Ugly
By Fiza Pathan
The judgement resounds in my mind
and echo of silence stills the evening.
You are cold to my love and I can’t blame you
for the God Brahma the Creator
has made me ugly to the looks of men.
So I run along the road of transgression
yelling a call to the heavens above.
I bestow at the feet of the gods
all my riches only for one boon
─to make me beautiful to the eyes of men.
I implore the gods to flatten my cheeks
and highlight my cheekbones.
I beg them to resculpt my body into a thin frame
─slender to the frame with crystal blue eyes.
I beseech them to carve out my nose
to the style of the Aryan clan
and to pull out the excessive fat from my body
to restore me to my skeleton frame.
But no one hears my pleas
and there is none to listen to my prayer
─for no one loves me anymore
I’m unclean to even my own self.
No one wants me near them
because of my ugly looks
it seems as if I’m the moon of blemish
─a curse unto myself
and the ones who care for me.
My large frame weeps
with me in its wretchedness
─my lover is cold to me
and I’m merciless to myself.
I’m ugly ─ ugly ─ ugly
and therefore no man will love me ever.
I have to live my life ever after
in tears and self-mortification.
Woe to the mother who gave such a creature birth
whose fatness is despised by the world,
as a thing worth nothing.
Woe to the father who gave such a creature life.
For every evening, I feel like pressing
the knife to my heart and by doing so
killing the life that is within me
and thereby doing so
─to allow my tormentors to fry my body
on the skillet to eat contented
─the ugly body of their gaze.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http://slimber.com/gallery/images2/23/233108/preety-ugly-girl.jpg