Dr. Haraprasad Paricha Patnaik

There are tales about prostitutes,
fancies and fantasies roll around them.

Like furniture in a house
every Indian city has a den
called red
even in the day.

If you are poured out in life
you should be with one
who consoles you,even for a night, a moment.

She is no different
here as elsewhere.

No wonder
you at times feel
like a cigarette burning fast
and so close to your loneliness.

You walk down and smile
and lay bare in confidence.

Anywhere anything
that holds out a hope,
a horizon like contentment
is home.

Sometimes the hidden history
of a woman so destitute,
sometimes her surrender
to your aggressive lust.

A harlot means a life
of abandon, a home.

3 comments » Write a comment

  1. Beautiful poem from a very talented poet of our state. Thank you for posting it.

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