Bitchy-Witchy

Exactly two years before from today, we had a WITCHES' PARTY, and I was the chief witch.

We had digged out all weird black torn scary skimpy clothes and tied them all around our body, for wearing them had seemed too human a thing to do. On hindsight, I think wearing them would have been safer. Witches' magic often goes wrong. But more on that later. The party was on a dark and dangerous terrace, more like a rooftop on which we had to climb, minus brooms and modern travel gadgetry. It is said sometimes that all men in this world are ba*****s, and all girls are bitches. Apt adage it was, atleast that day, because all the witches together chose to bitch about all the bastards they knew, and then it was high time for THE resolution. The ultimate magic spell. And it was propogated through cell phones and other supernatural media, peppered with honest remarks and additional two-word spells. And then we laughed. There is no laughter like the Devil's Laughter, and we laughed and danced around an evil fire till animal instinct took over and it was time to tear clothes and kick butts. At the end of it all, all lay exhausted and night finally changed to dawn. Witches retired, masti was packed, and frantic bastards were told that all the true doses from last night were mere Fools'Day jokes. Áfterall the bitching craving was over, and not many wanted to see people dead with honesty shocks, so we celebrated brute honesty disguised under foolishness. Or something like that.

Quite a night it was, alas, today is a sane day. And the world is so full of fools i do

nt feel like creating more. So mean bitches have forgiven the bastards for today, for they are incorrigible, and I am happy.

But still, the rags at the corner of my cupboard, the scary black paint that ran all over the face, and the magic brooms, they make me nostalgic. Yes, perhaps foolishly so.