Lipstick Under My Burkha Page #6

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When Rosy opened the door

it wasn't the tenant standing there.

It was the florist!

Rosy had never

paid attention to him.

Now she saw his broad

chiselled shoulders

and the passion in his eyes.

So he sent the flowers,

not the tenant?

Go on.

Before the florist could speak

Rosy turned towards him.

Instantly, he pulled Rosy

into his big strong arms.

And began kissing her neck softly.

Then he pressed his lips

into Rosy's red lips.

Oh, God! He smudged her lipstick.

These stories mislead us.

Promising us that we too

can live like Rosy.

They are misleading.

But they also give us

the courage to dream.

Rosy is lucky!

It's hard to gain the love

of one man

but Rosy here is basking

in the love of two men!

How is that lucky?

She's stuck between the two of them.

The florist told Rosy his name

Prince Charming.

Rosy laughed out loud.

How silly she was!

Now she won't stare

stealthily at the bouquet.

She'll openly call out

to her Prince Charming.

She won't veil her desire.

The iron bars at the window

cannot hold Rosy back now.

Rosy fixed her hair, wiped her tears

and jumped right out of the door.

The key to Rosy's caged dreams

always lay within her own heart.

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