Privacy…Eh!

Couple of days back, news of hospitalization of yesteryear legendary Bengali cinestar hit the headlines and paparazzi. Famed for her romantic pairing with the Bengali demi Greek god and then years of seclusion; the ageing beauty turn to most sought after figurine to paparazzi. Oh! Did anyone heard of ‘privacy’.

Eh, too strong a word to guard oneself yet so fragile, like a virgin on the countryside, hard to nail but bleeds when undone. Have you lost it? Oh, I must say it’s the most underrated word used to myself. I never enjoyed one until date. I claim, I scream, I desire, and rest left to bleed.

Nevertheless, F*** off; you ask me questions and I say “F*** off!” Read my blog, pull another scrap, ask me another question and “F*** off!” I won’t reply. I won’t be explaining, I won’t say you a word or spill the secret beans. Try hard. Try hard, dahling.

Wonder how hard it is to remain ‘private’ but ain’t we all have privates. Why, then get to know me? I need my ‘privacy’ and I ain’t the Virgin Mary to lose ‘that’ to a damn shepherd giving birth to a hellu’va chaos. I don’t need the stars to tell me the birth of Messiah who would one day stripped to the cross and Gospels telling his story. Let the Merry Old Wives spin another tale and sulk inside their grave.

I live happily in my private apartment; privacy unperturbed.