Note: In solidarity with the thousands of little girls, who are forced to be child brides in various parts of the globe, sacrificed in the alter of ‘marriage’ and forcefully initiated into brutal sex and a life of ignominy, deprived of the minimum education, hygiene and empowerment that she rightfully deserves.
Upcoming publication in an anthology for WORLD HUMANITARIAN DAY, to be published on August 19, 2016.
A mad, creepy stench seeps into me.
The night, smelling like litter and raw onions
Perforates my inner core. But wait, what is it?
The exposed visage of my yet to develop breasts
that might become a river, swelling with milk
and burnt poetry some day?
The parched, trembling virgin lips that an unknown mouth crushes
merciless, shoving his ugly, flabby, dated body into
a crescendo of submission, devastating the silken petal
between my thighs? Drops of virgin blood from a defenseless vagina,
assures my clan that my father’s honor is in right hands, that
my girlie dreams of unknown ocean pearls, decorous words, counting tricks
taught in a useless girls’ school will burn away in the tandoor,
Like all other ‘haraam’ around me. A child bride of Arabia, Africa, India, Syria,
I am chipped, peeled off, tender pieces, craving for light, my biggest sacrilege.
All Rights Reserved. Lopa Banerjee. August 13, 2016.