Gone were the days

When men swarmed her hut,

And passed metamorphic nights.


She was a peerless beauty,

Tall and stout, and an elusive broad smile

Always stuck her.


Body shapely and muscular, eyes, large

And liquid, Hair long, thick and black, and

Men bought gifts night and day.


Traces of beauty still she holds,

But her old suitors tread her yard no more.

At times a few drunken strangers visit her.


She then shriek, ‘I sell flesh no more,’

And drive the strangers out,

But clients she can’t dissuade thus.


So she hung a poster

At her bamboo fence, and in red ink

She wrote, ‘I sell flesh no more.’

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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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  1. Life for the Prostitute is always down hill!! One must find the Value of anything vs. it price! Price will change in time!!

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Top Comments

Subhash Chandra
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"A gifted writer"

A gifted versetile writer who writes excellent stories and poems on the invisibles, pariahs, margins, aged, weaklings of our society. A rising star on the literary firmament.
Santosh Bakaya
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Praise for my writing

“Your story Undersell left me with a lump in my throat, so did your poem, He also lights candles.”
Louis Kasatkin
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Praise for my poem "Elderly Men Two"

"A finely honed observational piece recording the minutiae of everyday life. Rendered with the author’s customary poetic aplomb suffused with a Borges like quality of the mythic."

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