Desert Rose

You know that feeling? When you’re just waiting. Waiting to get home. Waiting to get into your room. To close the door, to fall on that bed. And to just let everything out that you kept in all day. That feeling of relief and desperation? Nothing is wrong. But nothing is right either. And you’re tired. Tired of everything. Tired of nothing. And you just want someone to be there, to tell you that it is okay. But no one is going to be there and you know that only you can fix you. But you’re tired of waiting. Tired of having to be the one to fix yourself and everyone else. Tired of being strong. And for once you want it to be easy. To be simple. To be helped. To be saved. You know the chances are slim. You’re still hoping, right? You’re still wishing, isn’t it? You’re staying strong and fighting with tears in your eyes. You’re fighting. Keeping fighting. Write yourself a warrior’s tale.

It was indeed a long wait - the kind where almost the whole of the rest of the world had watched it. But we had to wait. I mean obviously – we can take item numbers with bizarre lyrics and objectification of women but the real facets – that is worth censoring, isn’t it? *Item number - A song that can be dropped anywhere in the film with no narrative justification. A scantily-clad woman appears, dances to a cheesy song, often with double meaning, and is never seen again. Oh and it is censor board friendly. More like a product placement (female body) to get the cash registers flowing at the box office. Ever since I walked out after watching Lipstick Under my Burkha, various perspectives have been going through my mind. The immediate reaction was all focused on the stalling performance by each artist and the story telling. It always fascinates me how the writers knit a whole lot of characters and experiences that they probably have met along their journey into a structur...