the end that is

when i met her,
probably when i was 2 or 3,
i wanted to be her.

i kept coming to bangalore,
at 10, at 12, at 15.
that was the nearest city from my small town,
thats why, i guess.
many times i stayed with her,
many times i dint.

i remember when she came to my town,
everyone kept staring at her.
not because she was extraodinarily beautiful,
but because this woman smoked.
she dint look back at them, she dint care.
yes, i smoke, yes i drink, and yes, i'm a woman, she said.

she did her part of magic in this world.
talked to many many suffering women,
went around this world carrying
posters, leaflets, candles.

and.
now she's here.
tired,
unhealthy,
no recognition, no money.

when i see her,
feel her hand on mine,
i tell you,
this is how it must have ended,
world doesnt deserve her yet.
its not her who didn't love the world enough,
but the world is not yet strong enough,
to love her in return.

( for celine, for the little great woman)