21st Century Ayeshas

They caught all the eyes, a bunch of pretty-faced teenage girls, all decked up to go shopping around the crowded market place, well-known for its ethnic clothes.

Direct from the college, the baggage was already heavy but they did not seem to budge as they held their heads high and maintained the air of attitude around to keep drawing people’s attention.

Even as harmless remarks on their shape and size kept doing around wherever they moved, nothing seemed to trouble them as they trudged along with heavy imposing steps, unsettling the dust around.

They sailed through the crowd largely made of people clad in mostly white and black (men in white and women covered foot-to-toe in black). Not accustomed of such display of feminism, people in the market place that located just outside a domed-shaped structure used as a place of worship, were in for some uncomfortable time.

Though they are not the first one from the unveiled class of women to visit the market place, the sorority of them is a rarity in the market, known to be for people of spirituality, who gets easily offended by any signs of freedom – mental or physical.

And these girls are testing their patience to the limit. Not just they looked incongruous to the medieval setting, they seemed to poke fun at the people around for their helplessness, for the burden of submission to the God’s will they were carrying and for their lack of faculty.

Jealous eyes behind the eternal black veils peeped into their tender white skins, as if trying to pinch them with their vision blinded by the messenger. They cursed the little earthy virgins (or otherwise), who seemed to have broken free of God’s heaven and landed on the earth to seduce their bearded warriors.

And the bearded warriors, as they always are, were hard to the core, with every string of their carnal feelings pulled vigorously. Unable to bear the pain down there, they could neither look at the ‘scantily’ clad girls nor stop themselves from savouring the sight.

It’s a dilemma for them for common human ethics forbids them from yearning girls as young as their daughters but the messenger himself never told them to ward off such desires. Instead, he was the one who desired a fledgling, plotted to get her and then made the god decree her remarriage after his (messenger’s) death.

The messenger had the licence from god, so he could have done anything and get away of it, but they are not the chosen one. They could not though keep their eyes off the 21st century ‘Aayeshas’.

Then there were the young one’s , who were ecstatic at the view of it. They were full of praise for the curves and curls but at the same time wary of the fact such immodesty in open air could infect their sisters shopping around in their traditional attires, which leave no scope for showing their bodily shapes.

The young ‘whores’ had fluttered quite a wings and attracted many a hawkish eyes, but they seemed to be unperturbed by the looks, the gazes, the appreciations or the curses. They had mouthful of the delicacies served to them amidst jealous roving eyes. They did not care either two hoots or the loud cry for god’s help that’s a customary at that time of the day to come from the large loudspeakers on the dome-shaped place of worship.

To them the messenger did not exist and even if he existed, he cannot be the role model, certainly not for women. All they knew was freedom, despite the messenger’s efforts to lock it in the ugly-looking large black stone somewhere in the deserts, still existed and it will continue to as long as they keep kicking the butt of messenger’s unsatisfied soul.