Prostitue. A word. A stigma. A whole community
Prostitute. I am one, of course you see me.
I am the one who gives in to your man when you can't
I am the one who takes his wrath when you can't
I am the ‘filth' you refer to when you cross my house
I am the one who is stared at by your spouse
The one the world refuses to let in
The one who sits outside and builds your world, while hers rots in a bin
I am the one with the dark ‘kajal', the blood red lips, the one with the dazzling saree and blouse
They say, this way, men I can arouse
I am also
A mother, of four back in my village, where no one knows
I am a bread winner, for the old parents whose daughter is a big woman,
