My life, like a sandbar

has been taken over by a monster of a man

who wants my body under his control

so that, if he wishes,

he can spit in my face,

slap me on the cheek,

pinch my rear;

so that, if he wishes,

he can rob me of the clothes,

take my naked beauty in his grip;

so that, if he wishes.

he can chain my feet,

with no qualms whatsoever whip me,

chop off my hands, my fingers,

sprinkle salt in the open wound,

throw ground-up black pepper in my eyes,

with a dagger can slash my thigh,

can string me up and hang me.


His goal: to control my heart

so that I would love him;

in my lonely house at night

sleepless, full of anxiety,

clutching at the window grille,

I would wait for him and sob;

tears rolling down, I would bake homemade bread,

would drink, as if they were ambrosia,

the filthy liquids of his polygynous body

so that, loving him, I would melt like wax,

not turning my eyes toward any other man.

I would give proof of my chastity all my life.


So that, loving him,

on some moonlit night

I would commit suicide

in a fit of ecstasy.




*Taslima Nasrin


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