It all ended when the sun rose, and the world woke up. The nights would
come again, but each was shorter than the last, as if the sun knew about them,
and had sent its rays to investigate, and eventually burn them out.
I lived with my mom and my dad. I never had a father, and I know I’ll
never have one. My mother is too brave for that. My dad doesn’t know about my
mother, nobody does, except me.
My mom told me, her only daughter, what she could never tell anyone. She
showed me photographs that had captured my mother’s smile, and the mischievous
glint in her eyes. I loved my mother. I guess my mom was happy she had someone
to share her love with. I believed that is why she told me her darkest,
happiest secret.
What I didn’t know was that my mom was scared, scared that I too would
have to love secretly under the stars because I told her of beautiful girls,
and not handsome boys. She was warning me, but I felt inspired.
When my chance came, I was brave enough to take it to a dance underneath
the stars. I had a ring in my hand, and she held a rose in hers. Just then the
sun rose in the sky, and burnt the fire that was burning within us, while we
tripped over roots that rose from the ground.
My country, spanning around thirty-three lakh kilometers, can house one
hundred thirty-three crore people, but has no room for two lovers.
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