You can neither choose the one you fall for, nor can you plan it. The heart wants what it wants. For the rest of the world, she was a prostitute. But for me, she was a beautiful woman. And, not just any woman; a wonder woman!
She wasn't forced into the trade of the flesh, she chose it. She called it providing satisfaction & pleasure to the needy. Everyone needs to be loved, at least physically. This was her way of doing her bit. She only sold her flesh & not her soul, unlike some hypocrites. That's how she put it. An unapologetic woman, only she could grace the dignity of such an undignified job.
Even though they ravaged every inch of her skin, her soul was unscathed. The optimism with which she painted her oft-kissed lips red daily, was refreshing. The undying flame of her spirit jolted my numb heart with electric sparks. A ravished body. Yet, a virgin mind, heart & soul!
My visits to her brothel frequented; she had bewitched me. Was she my sex slave or I hers? I did not know anymore. I gave up alcohol, it did not intoxicate me as much as she did.
Love was coursing through my veins like a flood. So was jealousy & possessiveness. I would peep into her dim lit room to watch her sexual escapades with filthy lowlifes with livid bloodshot eyes. I had to end it somehow.
Once, after a passionate love-making evening, I pulled out the mangalsutra I had bought from Bunty's shop, from my shirt's pocket hanging on the door's nob, while lying in bed. She regarded my face with intent and then her eyes twinkled with playful mischief, before bursting into peals of laughter. But when she saw my face contort, her expression turned solemn. She said that she would marry me only if I let her work even after marriage; as if it was a white-collar job.
I loved her, but I had a family & society to answer to. I stopped seeing her.
I couldn't stay away for long. I married her. We have a daughter now. Am I the father, I wonder at times. But, I never asked her & I never will. She's her daughter, so she's mine too. Society, family or she? It wasn't an easy choice, because I fell in love with a prostitute.
I chose love. I chose her.
She wasn't forced into the trade of the flesh, she chose it. She called it providing satisfaction & pleasure to the needy. Everyone needs to be loved, at least physically. This was her way of doing her bit. She only sold her flesh & not her soul, unlike some hypocrites. That's how she put it. An unapologetic woman, only she could grace the dignity of such an undignified job.
Even though they ravaged every inch of her skin, her soul was unscathed. The optimism with which she painted her oft-kissed lips red daily, was refreshing. The undying flame of her spirit jolted my numb heart with electric sparks. A ravished body. Yet, a virgin mind, heart & soul!
Love was coursing through my veins like a flood. So was jealousy & possessiveness. I would peep into her dim lit room to watch her sexual escapades with filthy lowlifes with livid bloodshot eyes. I had to end it somehow.
Once, after a passionate love-making evening, I pulled out the mangalsutra I had bought from Bunty's shop, from my shirt's pocket hanging on the door's nob, while lying in bed. She regarded my face with intent and then her eyes twinkled with playful mischief, before bursting into peals of laughter. But when she saw my face contort, her expression turned solemn. She said that she would marry me only if I let her work even after marriage; as if it was a white-collar job.
I loved her, but I had a family & society to answer to. I stopped seeing her.
I couldn't stay away for long. I married her. We have a daughter now. Am I the father, I wonder at times. But, I never asked her & I never will. She's her daughter, so she's mine too. Society, family or she? It wasn't an easy choice, because I fell in love with a prostitute.
I chose love. I chose her.
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