By Ashika Chettri
Yes, I was sold, as I was not born with fate of gold.
Male dominating society as I belong,
Daughter's dreams would be scrumble and squeezed for life long.
Once the well dressed, entered the stranger.
I was unknown of the upcoming danger.
He looked at me, asked my name.
I was blushed with shame.
He talked and bribed my drunk dad.
Agreed! Gave my hand to a brat.
For me it was really too bad,
As I was just thirteen.
He hold my hand, made me dream
In a fake fairy land, I was dressed in green.
Pretty me! I looked like a queen.
Fantasy it was, But, in real I was sold.
Yes, I was sold by my own dad before him.
And I was kept for the sale.
I tried my level, get rid of hell.
Eventually, I was caught, kept in dark.
Bolted the door with tiny spark of anger.
Left me alone, with no water, no food
Again! A man came, kicked and talked rude.
Burnt with cigar, spit on my face.
Tied my hand and made me undress.
My heart was broken, and my body was burnt
Like I was deer, hunter arrived to hunt.
Every new day, it was a curse
And every night, new faces filled their thirst.
As usual, left me bleeding with non- curable sore.
And people now, call me a 'WHORE'.