A FORSAKEN WOMAN

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Her man stole a neighbourhood girl,

And went Arunachal a long ago,

When Munni crawled in her

Belly, swollen to burst.

 

She lived at a hut,

And toil at day at lush green fields

Plucked tender leaves and buds,

And some dry wood way back.

 

At dead winter night when moon

Bathed the village, cold and grey,

She thumped and crooned

The baby coaxing inside.

 

Thus she passed her terrible days

Eyes swollen and breasts dry

And one night laboured she

And had her joy, Munni born.

(First published in anthology, Rise to Higher Essence)

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Abu Siddik

Abu Siddik

It's all about the unsung , nameless men and women around us. I try to portray them through my tales. I praise their undying suffering and immaculate beauty. And their resilience to life's vicissitudes, oddities, and crudities I admire. They are my soulmates who inspire me to look beyond the visible, the known, the common facade of the educated and the intellectuals.

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