What I store in my heart, forever

It all starts slowly. It all starts when you are not looking. It slowly gets out of control and it slowly becomes a part of you, in a way, you had never fathomed. She, this woman, to me is beautiful. A person who went great lengths in protecting the people she loved most. She would toil away, waste away to make those people in her life comfortable. She asked for nothing in return. She simply wished that we remained fearless, and free, if lucky, without pain.

But she did this, all while bit by bit she was being mangled, broken and asked to prove herself again and again and again. No one worships Sita, they all think about Ram. The selfish pig who abandoned Sita for pride and power.

My broken Sita lived in fear. Her skin reddened by occasional blows. But even though she shivered she was my shield, and my sponge. She would fight, she would cry, she pleaded, and she even kept mute -- she did everything to resist. All while telling me stories about fairness and love. And while I watch her be my sponge, a part of me died everyday. I watched her teary-eyed. I prayed and cursed god. I never yearned for Ram. If Ram was a devil then let me be no Sita.

Seasons passed, times changed, we meandered into each other's lives with restrain and maturity --- but what I saw never got erased. It bore deep into my consciousness making me who I am today.

And as my Sita grows old... as she sometimes cries over silly fights, I feel a surge in me to protect her-- to be her sponge and her shield against every grief, every blow. I wish I can reverse everything. I am no Sita, I never will be.