Desire

Desire. A sensation locating its place somewhere in the middle of conscience and choice. A desire buds through a temptation and then cements itself in the back, front, middle and at times all over the human mind. I know this seems blasphemous, the use of words like desire and temptation that could be read as eternal sins but do we really submit to the conscience or work towards the fulfilment of our desires ? Desire leads to happiness and everyone around the world is in the pursuit of nothing but happiness. Then why not ? Why not let the desires rule out your conscience and strive towards its consummation. At least, this is what they did. The two of them. Who were religiously pursuing each other in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the eighties while the constantly moving chariot of the sun God declared day and night as days passed.

Once they had made room for a kiss, passion flew like waters from an open dam. There was no stopping them, no looking back. Carnal love is not to be damned. Contrary to the popular belief, what it really does is bring two people more and more close to each other and finally binds them with an eternal lot. They didn't care of what the world would say. By "talking", the world did what they are best capable of. Why should they not love and exercise their own best capabilities of loving and kissing and being one. Marriage, people consider, is the sole, legitimate initiator of the exercise of such a passion. A desire for love making. It provides the license but who knows this passion is obligatory or not. Who knows if people involved in the act are only procreating and not loving. Why are the carnal pleasures assumed only to be a recourse to populate an overtly populated world ? Why is this pleasure not an outcome of unrestrained passion where love leads to procreation as a product of love and not a means to an end ?

She had her hands locked around his neck and was looking eagerly into his eyes once they had opened after the spiritual commingling of their lips in a lip lock. He was burning with desire and read the same fire in her eyes. He tightened his grasp a little more around her waist and drew her closer to himself and soon she loosened her locked hands from around his neck and let them fall through his back up to his chest. The signals had been sent and well received. She knew it was time to be swept off her feet and placed on the spongy bed and turn red the white bed sheet. It was a historical moment in her life because it was her first time. Barely had she known that it was his first too. They both swam deep into each other and were both as happy as one can be. They had never been happier or more passionate.

They were both excited but nervous. Nervous but way more excited. They had barely known where exactly to begin because the unavailability of internet had barred a lot of education that we receive today in the modern tech-savvy world. So they just followed the signals their body gave them naturally. They moved from one part to another, from the head till the toes. They were exploring each other like travellers explore new lands and make geography. They were exploring bodies and making art. Art, the form of which was common to all, yet, was different for every couple. The bodies moving slowly to built positions and shapes, only too conscious to avoid hurting the other.

And then suddenly he screamed once, twice and thrice, signalling the completion. He asked her, "did you like it". She blushed and said "of course", barely knowing whether she was done or not. Although it surely was the best thing she had experienced in all her life and wanted more and more.They decided to meet another day, the next perhaps. He left being the happiest man on earth, while she still felt his presence both around and within her. It was a beautiful feeling. They had both explored something afresh. Something only heard till then but now, experienced !

To much of her surprise there were no reds on the bed sheet to mark her chastity. She was astonished and then remembered it couldn't have been so. Was it the swimming pool that had long ago defiled her ? "Then, what is all the fuss really about ?", she thought for a minute. But she was too happy to care. There was a sudden sense of growing up, of becoming a woman. There was a welcome change in her body, or at least she wanted to feel so. She was happy. Very happy. It was worth a million such penetrations. Was something so beautiful kept away from her just because of a wall she had already broken ? She thought. Then again the face of her charming knight took over her imagination and she felt so much more in love. From then on, they were one. Spiritually, emotionally and physically, one.

The Woman's body.

"Dude ! Look at those boobs !", "What an Ass ! I could totally do her"

While men talk about a woman like this, they only see the outside. Simply what meets the eye. A"do-able" ass, a pair of boobs and a hole between the legs that is crying aloud to them, "Come fill me in" ! That's precisely how much a woman is objectified every day, everywhere. A woman's body is broken down into parts and sections and exposed to the unrestrained voyeurism of a "band of robbers" willing to grab, cup and defile. How feeble and base is the imagination of these men who think of the woman's body as simple a riddle as this that they can solve it in eleven minutes or so. A woman's body is much more than just that. When men say, "It is impossible to understand a woman", they are only referring to the complexity surfacing on the outside. Unaware of the maze of a gazillion complexities going on the inside.

When a woman says, "I love being in a woman's body!", She means it ten times more than a man will ever understand. The initiation of such a remark is generated somewhere behind the forehead that deserves a thousand years of praise, travels through the eyes that widen, look deep into the eyes of the unaware listener and immediately generate a spark, reaches and comes out through the curves of the lips and twirl of the tongue and is heard through the vibrations that are producing the sound effect. But, is that all ? Of course not ! It goes way deep.

Women are beautiful. A woman's body is a beautiful piece of art. We know. But, so are men. Have we forgotten The Dorian Gray and his enigmatic beauty, or Adonis for that matter ? Women are beautiful, their bodies are aesthetic, true. But there is a lot more than that. The body of a woman is a Byzantine when compared to that of a man's. No this isn't about menstruation or child birth, I am not even beginning to hint on menstruation or any biological process. This is about how women feel about their bodies. All women will agree with the declaration of Tiresias that a woman receives much more "pleasure" in the "act" than a man. Even then we find men lusting them and the act more ! That's similar to the insatiable appetite of those who only know half the pleasure of an experience. In this sense men are like the bourgeoisie, who in their pretentious nobility are only partly aware of how the aristocratic nobility actually "feels".

"Feels". Yes that's precisely what I want to reach. Women feel each and every movement of their body parts a lot more than men. They are always conscious. No there is no science behind this but yes , twenty two years of experience. We are always playing a role. Women are constantly acting it out. We know which side of our personality-rich selves have to be switched on and when. Also, please don't take it as a diabolical trait. Because it's not. Women feel every curve of their bodies and are far too aware while curving it than men will ever think about. Each step they take, each movement of their beautifully carved and kept hands, each toss of their head, stretch of their neck and roll of their eyes is carefully calculated. That's not because women fake it but because they know how to make use of it. It being their carefully carved bodies. If the human body was only a cover for the soul why would the Lord take so much pains in making so many different ones, all beautiful in their own way. We women understand that. And obviously we can't disappoint or waste any of our inbuilt talents. So, we use it.

When a woman walks past, people turn their heads to look at her. They appreciate the body, the walk but never the artist behind presenting it in that manner. Women are not only art but also the artists who exhibit their best forms at all times. An artist who knows her best colours, brushes, lines and curves. We enjoy being our own canvas. Men are surprisingly very naive in assuming that women use makeup, they dress and act in a certain way to receive their compliments. I sympathize with all those men who think like that. They fail to comprehend that the first and only person a woman is pleasing by doing all that is herself. Try telling a woman she is beautiful on a day she knows she is looking horrible. She will like the compliment, love you for saying so, but, at the same time know that you are lying, or are simply too much in love. She will never believe you. NEVER. 

The woman's body is as beautiful as a man's is, at least in it's unkempt bare form. They do complete each other. But, women are equipped with the wonderful art of making it much more artistic and heavenly. It's an inherent trait in our nature. We just can't help being beautiful at all times ! ;)