A Life Story

I had once loved a boy, loved him dearly,

So much so that it was blind, blind to everything,

Everything around…what he did, what people said,

What were his intensions…I trusted, trusted with all I had…..

One day, he asked me to go out with him,

Go out secretly; he said it was a surprise…..

 Yeah it was indeed a surprise, a surprise that made me see,

Opened my eyes to the reality, away from my dreams…..

And you know where my eyes opened? In a brothel,

Yes that’s right, in what people call a brothel, my eyes opened,

Opened to the reality of my dreams, opened to the warnings,

Warnings so many well-wishers had given me, only I was blind then…..

When I opened my eyes both literally and symbolically,

He smiled down at me, the same angels’ smile I had,

Had always fancied, died for now mocked down at me…..

I was lying there, with a sold tag on me, yeah sold,

Sold for may be a few lacks, to the owner of the brothel,

Well I should call him my owner too though…..

That was the beginning of the nightmare, many more,

Yes, many, many more were due to come…may be I had called,

Called for all this; I had been a trusting, loving girl,

A girl who had dared to dream, dared to think that she could,

Could have respect, love, affection…all the warning,

All the well-intended words of advice, all ignored in a zest…..

 I don’t know how I got there or what day it was…

We were not even allowed to peep outside the room,

I used to tell my parents sometimes that they imprisoned me…

Imprisoned? Now I knew what it felt to be imprisoned,

Not only that, the pain torture that went on day and night,

Every day every moment, lust of hundreds, heaped on one…..

 People call us sex workers; say we are dirty, untouchables,

I would like to ask them, can you please tell anyone,

Yes any one of us who has taken up this profession,

Taken it up on her free will, who had not been sold?

But no I will not blame you either; it is not your fault,

The fault is ours, ours as we had loved the wrong person, trusted…..

 But why? Why do these happen to girls only?

Why are we always treated like commodities, accessories?

What is our fault? What is wrong in love? In trust?

Aahh, no more time now, have to go, have to get ready,

Ready for another night, another night of a new face…another night,

Another night in the arms of a stranger…cause I am, as you all call me, a sex worker…..