The Agony Of A Prostitute Poem by Dipankar Sadhukhan

It's not a temple, not a mosque
Even not a church.
Yet from youths to middle aged men
Are crowded here
Not to buy vegetables,
Not chicken or mutton,
Even not flowers to worship.

Just bargaining goes on
After my tender flesh and soft breasts.

It's a bar
Where I have been almost for ten years.
In a dark night at sixteen
I visited this for the first time.

Some wild guys, some monsters
Come to me every night.
My painted face with make up,
My matured breasts peeped through
My half opened dress
And my charming sweet voice
Attract even to a man of middle age.

My victimized soul is so good
At trapping every male so easily.

Some bargain with a thousand rupees
Just for two hours' pleasure.
Some go with five thousands
To share my bed the whole night.

It's not wine, not gambling
Even not love making.
It's only an addiction just to surrender
My honour every night
To the huge monsters
Only in exchange of money.

The trapped youths spend
The dark hours of night with me.
In a closed half-dark room
With dim light
Begins the real business.

Every night at least
One gigantic figure comes
To taste my flesh
By making me unclothed.
And I surrender myself
To his evil desire
In exchange of money.

He holds my neck tight
To suck forcefully
Even the last drop
From my lips' honey.

His hard hands start
Crumpling my soft breasts
Just like the extracting juice from oranges.

Then he uses me like a machine
And starts his real work.
No love, no sympathy is found there.
Only goes on
The exchanging of flesh and fluids
All over the night.

My senses get benumbed
And I feel as if the bees
Stinging my whole body.
O, so painful, so unbearable
I am to spend every night!

No one can hear my cry
As I am to remain silent
All over the night
Only in exchange of money.

Using me like a green coconut
He throws me into a garbage
And I spend so painful moments
That can't be expressed.

I remain so addicted to the raw money.
Every day I think I will escape
But I can't escape for a moment
From this prison-hell
As no one from Society will welcome me
But to abuse me badly
Only in exchange of money.

No love making,
Never hearts exchanging
Will happen in my life
As only fluids and flesh
Will be mixed up and exchanged
In exchange of money
And none but me understand
My suffering and agony.


By Dipankar Sadhukhan
Kolkata, India.
Copyrights@September01,2016.