Durga Heart

Mariano 2022-01-03 08:02:05

Everyone here has two names and two identities.
One is the name and the other is the name.

Let's drink this cup of milk tea together, and I will tell you my story.
My story is a note of mourning. I am a pregnant woman who has lost her husband.
But I know where my husband is. He talks to me every day.
He obeyed my intention and came here to work and never returned.

"Who are you? What do you want to do?" When
we first meet a person, are we afraid that he has the ability to hurt us?
You see my tears and anxiety. You know that I have unresolved pain and unacceptable heart.
We all believe that pain makes people weak and that such people are powerless to hurt others.

I always look impatient.
I want to find my husband. Give my child an explanation.

I am a pregnant woman whose husband has disappeared.
I went to a foreign country to find you, I don't want me to be a note of mourning played by others.
I use trembling legs to ease the tension of entanglement and the calculations in my heart.
I should cry when I cry, and be angry when I should be angry, until I find you.
You have rare, cold blood, and its name is cruel.
You have the smell of sleeping subway and milky white liquid evaporating together.
You twisted and smiled and became Vidya's husband.

I once had such a person, the king lived and I lived, but the king died but I forgot.
I looked for him in the city where he died, as if he could still be found.
Because of my tolerance and your cruelty, he fell asleep in the steamy subway with many innocent people.
Since he left, every name and place have been short syllables of mechanical percussion, and life has become a joke.

I just want to go back to my husband who never returned. I just want to give the child an explanation.
You gradually stared at Vidya with hollow eyes, and the crisp gunfire shattered more firmly than the glass bottle on the subway that day.

Vidya, the usual name
in Kolkata, here, everyone thinks that Bidya or Vidya is the same.
I smiled and nodded, also willing to be Bidya, the most ordinary woman in Kolkata.

At the end of the story, you said, who are you?
Does it matter.

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