why is it that the red he pours on the battlefield becomes the red of fearlessness and the red of bravery? why is it that the red you gift a lover becomes the red of love and the red of devotion? why is it that the red dot in between my mother’s eyebrows is the red of culture and the red of tradition? tell me then, why is it that the red i bleed, all over my unblemished white mattress, all over my christened house, all over this stigmatized world, dirty and disgusting?
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