‘…That night too, Rudra came home and cajoled me by saying, “Good girl, unwind a little, don’t keep yourself so stiff, soften your body a little,” and entered the path he had opened up. In that dark room, made darker by my shut eyes, when I was openly bearing the agony Rudra inflicted on my body, bearing the pain – suddenly like lightning a sharp pleasure spread through my body from head to toe. With the shock of that bolt of lightning I dug the ten nails of my hands into Rudra’s back. I gasped for breath. Panting, I asked “What happened!”
Rudra did not tell me what happened. Murmuring endearments like dear precious jewel he collapsed on top of me. That night, not once, but several times he brought me to orgasm. With this pleasure the nerves of agony gradually grew inert and inactive. I continued to moan, but this time with pleasure. I was now experiencing the pinnacle of pleasure.
At one point while I was still moaning, I noticed that Rudra was no longer beside me. He had not been there by my side for quite a while.
“Where are you?”
In the darkness a single point of red fire glowed. The fire was moving.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?”
“I’m coming.”
The red glow went out, the cigarette smoking was over, yet Rudra did not return to bed. My unruly, obsessive body wanted him intimately close, I kept one of my hands on his pillow, wanting to hold him in my arms when he returned, and sleep for the rest of the night, imbibing the scents of his body. I called again, “Where have you gone!”
There was a smell of anti-septic Dettol in the room.
“What’s wrong, what is this Dettol smell!”
“I am applying Dettol,” came Rudra’s voice out of the darkness.
“Why, what happened?”
“I have an itch.”
“Do you have to apply Dettol for that?”
“I am applying an ointment as well.”
“What ointment?”
“I don’t know.”
“Switch on the light, will you? Let me see where you are itching, and what ointment you are applying.”
Rudra switched on the light and saying, “Coming”, took the ointment and went off to the toilet. Under the lights I tidied my dishevelled sari, and sat waiting. When Rudra came, I examined his hands and legs and; there were no signs of scabies.
“Where are you itching?”
Without replying Rudra switched the light off, and lay down. Lying next to him, I placed a hand on his chest and said, “I can’t find any scabies.”
“There is.”
“Where?”
“It is in that area.”
“That area, which area?”
“On the penis.”
“Where?”
“On the penis.”
“Why are you applying Dettol?”
“It will help.”
“Has any Doctor told you so?”
“No.”
“Who gave you the ointment? Some Doctor?”
“No. I bought it myself.”
“Will this ointment work?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you applying it? Permethrin cream has to be applied for scabies. Is it itching a lot?”
“Yes, it is. Even a boil has appeared.”
“Small?”
“Not so small.”
“It shouldn’t be big. Why should it grow big?”
“Quite big.”
In my enthusiasm as a doctor, I sat up, switched on the lights and said, “Let me see what kind it is!”
Rudra kept lowering his lungi. The hair on his body grew gradually denser as they moved downwards, till they reached the cold sexual organ. At the base of the genitals was a red flower. No one had laid out my bridal chamber, on this my first night, with flowers. No roses, no marigolds, no hibiscus or jasmine. This flower on Rudra’s manhood had bedecked my first bridal bed of flowers. Yet, I had seen many penises like this one. This ulcer on the penis was a very familiar one. At the hospital, in the venereal diseases out-patients department, the male patients lowered their lungis and showed ulcers exactly like this one. These ulcers were identified by the Doctor’s dealing with sexually transmitted diseases or venereal diseases as Syphilis chancre, and were the chancres we had seen many times from a safe distance. Although Rudra’s ulcer looked like a Syphilis chancre, one ulcer could surely resemble another one! There must be many harmless ulcers, which looked like other ugly ulcers. There must be, my heart said, there was.
“When did this appear?”
“Just ten or twelve days ago.”
“Does it bleed?”
“No.”
Whatever other disease Rudra may have contracted, there was no reason for him to be afflicted by Syphilis! I thought of all the other diseases it could be. Was this Eczema or psoriasis? Or maybe it was Penile penile papules! Or reiter’s syndrome! Or even pemphigus !
“Do you have any pain?”
Rudra shook his head. “No.”
This denial destroyed the possibility of all the other diseases. The Syphilitic ulcer also caused no pain.
“Doesn’t it pain even a little?”
Rudra was thinking. Think Rudra, think some more, if you just think a little more you will surely realize that it did pain.
But Rudra again shook his head. “No.”
“Have you slept on any stranger’s dirty bed? Or used anyone’s towel?”
He again shook his head. “No.”
A writer called Razia Begum had spent three months at a tea-garden in Sylhet for writing a novel about the tea-garden workers. Was it possible that Rudra had visited a brothel for writing poetry or a novel, and had used something there, like a towel? Had touched something in a toilet, and from these places the Syphilis virus, treponema pallidum, had travelled to his hands. Although I knew Syphilis did not spread like that I still asked, just in case it had! By chance if the virus had entered through some gap or hole!
“Have you been to prostitutes for some reason? For the purposes of your writings or something?”
“Why, no I haven’t!”
“Never?”
“No.”
I was looking for other reasons, reasons for ulcers that looked like this. Searching. Searching. This was Rudra’s first intercourse with someone, just like mine. That is how it was supposed to be. That was what love was all about. One saved oneself, for the person one loved. I stared at Rudra’s ulcer. Then how come this ulcer! This ulcer did not look like any other! Even if it was Harpes Simplex or genital warts, these too were sexually transmitted diseases! Suppose this was Syphilis, from where did it enter into Rudra’s body if he had never been to a brothel! I was absorbed in deep thought. I touched the ulcer, and examined it from the left and right side. I looked at the form and shape of the ulcer. I looked at its color.
It looked exactly like a Syphilitic ulcer. My eyes confirmed it, but my mind couldn’t. But there was no reason to contract Syphilis. Then, how could it be that! A crease appeared between my eyebrows.
“Have you had any relationship with a girl?”
“What nonsense are you talking?”
Rudra pulled up his lungi. His ulcer got covered.
“Go to sleep, will you. It is very late.”
It may have been late, but my sleep had vanished. I was anxious to know the cause of this ulcer. Without any intercourse why should such an ulcer have appeared!
“Have you shown it your father?”
“No.”
“You have it for over two weeks. Why haven’t you shown it to a Doctor?
“I haven’t.”
“If you apply ointments without a test, the ulcer will not heal.”
Rudra kept scratching his beard. He did this when he was very worried about something.
I abruptly said, “Do you know these ulcers appear if you have relations with prostitutes? You couldn’t possibly have gone to a prostitute!” I asked.
“No.” Rudra’s voice was icy.
“You really haven’t been? This is the first time you have ever had intercourse isn’t it with me?”
Rudra’s face suddenly changed. His two black brows joined together. As though somewhere inside his body there was some agony. He looked at my eyes for a long time. Even though I tried, I was unable to read the language of his eyes.
For a long time the two of us sat silently. Suddenly Rudra said, “Actually you know, I have been to the area.”
“Area meaning?”
The red-light areas.”
“You have? Why?”
“For the same reason other people go.”
“What reason?”
Rudra said nothing. Was my head throbbing? Did a tightness suddenly hurtle into my chest,making it difficult for me to breathe? My subsequent words were spoken much more slowly than before. The voice was breaking, trembling.
“Have you slept with a prostitute?”
He did not say anything. His eyes had turned stony.
“Speak, why aren’t you saying something? Speak.”
My eyes were full of anxiety. Say ‘No’, say ‘No’ Rudra. Please say ‘No’. In the hope of hearing the one word ‘No’, I sat waiting, like one bewitched.
“Yes,” said Rudra.
“What, you had sexual relations?”
I couldn’t recognize my own voice, as if it wasn’t mine at all, but someone else’s. As if a button had been pressed on a machine, and the machine was speaking.
“Yes.”
The light was on in the room, yet darkness was deepening before my eyes. I was unable to breathe. For a long time I couldn’t breathe at all. Was this a patient suffering from venereal disease before me, or was it Rudra! My lover, my husband! I couldn’t believe this was Rudra. I couldn’t believe he was someone I had passionately loved for years, and fought against my whole family to be with him.
“When did you go?”
“Just two weeks ago.”
“Have you been just once?”
“Yes.”
“You have never been before?”
“No.”
“Your ulcer is two weeks old!”
“Yes.”
“The ulcer couldn’t have appeared the very day you had intercourse. It takes sometime to form. Try and recall if you have been more than once.”
Staring at my eyes without blinking for a long time, he said slowly, “I have.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I didn’t want to believe that I was not the first woman in Rudra’s life! For a long time I sat benumbed.
“You never told me about all this.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
Rudra heaved a deep sigh. Staring at the white wall, looking at what only he knew, he did not reply.
“The red light area, right? Where is that?”
“At Banishanta.”
“Where is Banishanta?”
“In this port.”
“Why do you go? Don’t you love me?”
“I do love you.”
“If you do, how did you sleep with anyone else? You lied to me all these days. You told me you had not touched anyone but me ever. Do you know, I can’t believe any of this?”
I found it painful to believe that Rudra had slept with another woman … the way he had slept with me. That he had kissed someone else in the same way as he had kissed my face and breasts. It was painful to believe that Rudra had entered anyone else as deeply as he had me. I felt as though my boat had sunk in mid-ocean. I too was sinking, as far as the eye could see there was no one, nothing at all. I was alone, I was drowning. My sky had fallen apart, my world had disintegrated and scattered to bits. The bits were now rolling into the bottom of the sea. In the boundless, billowy sea there was not even a dry piece of straw. I was drowning. It was as if I was not myself, I was someone else. I felt sorry for that someone else. The pain circulated in my nervous system and finally descended to my chest. It was as though all the rocks in the world were pressing down on my chest. I did not have the ability to utter a single word. Losing all my senses I wept copiously, through the night. The pillow, sari and bed sheets got soaked with my tears. I clung to Rudra’s hands and feet and cried, “Please tell me you are not speaking the truth. Tell me, you have not been to anyone else. You have not slept with anyone else. Please.”
Rudra’s silence was like that of a stone. With a pale face he watched me crying through the night.
He watched me crying in the morning, afternoon and evening. He watched me crying the whole day going without any food or bath. He himself ate and bathed. He spent the day like any other day. I wanted to sleep. To forget everything and sleep. But sleep would not come. When I asked for sleeping tablets, Rudra fetched two strips of sedatives from his father’s chambers. He had searched and found two strips, and those two strips he had given me. From the twenty tablets in the two strips, I was to take only one. I was to take one, so that I could take a tablet daily and sleep for the next twenty days. But hidden from Rudra, I swallowed all the twenty tablets at one go, that very day, that very evening, “I will go far away, but not let you forget me” was not the tune playing within me. I really wanted to go far away, wanted Rudra to forget me, never to remember that anyone by my name had been part of his life. I didn’t feel as though I could have borne my own existence any longer, or that my life had any value left any more. I didn’t think I could live a minute more with these intolerable pains and unbearable insults. Just when I was rushing towards this longed-for death, someone grabbed me from behind and stopped me. When I was brought back from that path, I found a hard pipe in my nose and beside me was standing Rudra’s Doctor father. The poison was taken out of my body, but from my mind not a drop of poison came out, my heart was dying. Before my eyes my heart moaned in its death-throes. I spent the whole night sleeplessly with my dead heart lying next to me.
I was 20, a medical student. My husband gave me a wedding gift in our first night together, that was Syphilis. Yes, he infected me with his disease.’
44 comments
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One Way Monkey
September 2, 2012 at 11:42 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Your words paint a vivid, but wrenching, picture.
Thank you for sharing.
rani haridas
September 2, 2012 at 11:45 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Saddest story ever.
Milon Ahmed.
September 3, 2012 at 12:06 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
A lot of innocent girls like Taslima are infected by their husbands.
Ava, Oporornis maledetta
September 3, 2012 at 12:12 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
This is absolutely gripping. And I find it interesting that you wanted him to forget you. I would have wanted the revenge of regret, guilt, and remorse on his part–for a long time!
Partha
September 3, 2012 at 12:18 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Puts me to shame as a male. Aa a breed we are glorified as polygamous, which is infamy for a female. Thats the world we live in and persecute voices like Taslima who shatters the myth and lies about women we created for ages.
DLZ
September 3, 2012 at 9:46 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Why are you ashamed of the actions of others? I always found that mindset a weak one.
fork
September 3, 2012 at 10:10 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Oh, yes. Much better to pretend that male sexual entitlement doesn’t exist and that you’re a gallant fellow who never avails himself of his privilege.
Liesmith
September 3, 2012 at 12:07 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
That seems like a bit of a false dichotomy; I can acknowledge and condemn patriarchy and privilege without being ashamed on behalf of those who abuse it.
I feel disgust and anger at those actions and those people, but I don’t view them as a reflection of myself, because I can’t conceive of the thoughts that would lead someone to behave in such a way.
I can say that I’m better than that man, because I am. I can say that I try not to avail myself of privilege, because I do try.
I’m sure I still benefit in a thousand small ways I’ve never noticed– that’s the smog quality of privilege– but in all the ways I can filter it out, I do.
Sorry to rant and get off topic…I don’t sleep much, so my thoughts are pretty scattered. I don’t know what my point was…we all agree that the guy is scum, and the system which allows and encourages such behavior is rotted.
fork
September 4, 2012 at 8:45 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
“. . . because I can’t conceive of the thoughts that would lead someone to behave in such a way.”
But you can. As you said, “I’m sure I still benefit in a thousand small ways I’ve never noticed– that’s the smog quality of privilege”
Just because you can’t see yourself doing that specific thing, doesn’t mean that you can’t extrapolate from your own behavior and understand the thought process of Taslima’s husband. Hell, anyone can “conceive of the thoughts” without being one of those people that would actually go on to behave that way.
What you’re trying to do here is create an artificial line, where on one side, the exercising of male privilege (in the ways you do it) makes you still a decent guy, and on the other side, exercising male privilege makes the other guy “scum”. In both cases, it’s the same thing at work, the exercising of male privilege. It’s a difference of degree, not kind.
You should feel shame for the ways you still benefit, not excuse yourself or give yourself a cookie because you’re “trying”.
skeptifem
September 3, 2012 at 12:39 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
this story is so representative of what many women experience in exploring sexuality- moments of tenderness and joy overshadowed by the reality of a patriarchal sexual order.
Winterwind
September 3, 2012 at 5:09 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
I’m about to cry.
cry4turtles
September 3, 2012 at 6:04 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Yes, the patriarchal sexual order, and the unrealistic expectations that young adults are not allowed to explore their sexual side. They’re supposed to be unaturally celibate, and when that mandate is broken, there’s no coping mechanism. This poor girl tried to kill herself because her man did what all other men (and in healthy societies women) do-explore sexuality and the realities thereof, thereby arming them to cope. Just one of the many ways male dominance fucks up humanity, and I’m not blaming all men, just the ones steeping in it.
S Mukherjee
September 4, 2012 at 2:24 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
The husband in this case was not ‘exploring his sexuality’, since he could have easily done that with his wife. He was just taking advantage of the entitlement that society gives to men, that makes them feel that they have to go and use prostitutes’ bodies like toilets in order to be ‘masculine’.
skeptifem
September 4, 2012 at 4:42 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
The problem isn’t marriage or puritanism. its the framework surrounding female sexuality in a patriarchal society.
One of the main themes in it is that women are a sexual commodity for men. Men who want this commodity to be individually owned are puritans. Men who want this commodity to be rented or communally owned are not puritans, but don’t deviate from the patriarchal sexual order in any meaningful way. Prostitution is completely within the framework of patriarchy, women are bought and sold for their pleasure. Women are things that get “used up” by sex in both systems, inexperience is what makes women valuable in a patriarchy.
I also wonder what kind of warped mindset it takes to think that women who are paid to pretend to like sex (and likely don’t want to be prostitutes at all) can be used for a genuine expression of sexuality. It only counts if you think sex is something done to women instead of something they actively enjoy and participate in.
Shah M. Nasser
September 3, 2012 at 6:22 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
If MONOGAMY were the natural state for humans, then we would not even have words in our vocabulary like adultery or cheating. Only 3% of MAMMALS are monogamous and none of them are PRIMATES. We are no different.
punchdrunk
September 4, 2012 at 1:15 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
http://anthro.palomar.edu/behavior/behave_2.htm
“Monogamous groups consist of an adult male and female with their children. When they are grown, the children leave to create their own nuclear families. While this group pattern is the most common one for humans, it is rare for non-human primates. It is found among the small Asian apes as well as some of the New World monkeys and prosimians. Specifically, monogamous family groups are the common pattern for gibbons, siamangs, titi monkeys, indris, tarsiers, and apparently some pottos.
Winterwind
September 4, 2012 at 2:35 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
If LAW-ABIDING were the natural state for humans, we would not even have words in our vocabulary like murder, theft or crime! Most mammals fight, kill or steal from each other with impunity so we should too.
More seriously, I agree with you that monogamy isn’t for everyone. The real injustice here is not that a man wanted to have multiple partners, but that he lied to his future wife, telling her that he loved her alone and had never slept with anyone else. If he had been honest with her from the start and said that he wanted an open marriage, she either would have gone into the marriage knowing what to expect, or she would have moved on and found someone else who wanted be with her and only her.
Taslima Nasreen
September 4, 2012 at 2:44 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Exactly what I wanted to say.
chamak
September 4, 2012 at 4:14 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Dear Sis Taslima,
It is high time to come to the light. Seek Allah’s guide to realize absolute humanity. He must hear u as He is the most Gracious and the Merciful..
BethE
September 4, 2012 at 8:37 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Please go away. He has not heard her before this, why should she think that now would be any different?
Or are you a Turing godspambot?
cry4turtles
September 4, 2012 at 4:23 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Perhaps he was just as much victim as she, living in a world with ridiculous sexual expectations. In my world, I knew my hubby had others and vice versa. We could be open and honest without fear of repercussions. And we were educated about STDs. Perhaps this man would have approached the entire situation differently if he too were free to be honest?
Winterwind
September 5, 2012 at 2:18 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
No doubt he was harmed by living in a sexually repressed society as well, but he wasn’t as trapped as you might think. His marriage to Ms Nasreen was not arranged by their families. Men’s sexuality isn’t controlled as strictly as women’s in such cultures. Everyone knows that prostitutes exist and that some men visit them. It is considered improper but a man can be discreet about it.
He could have allowed his family to find him a wife who would have turned a blind eye. He didn’t have to choose a “love marriage” and pursue a girl who had to fight her whole family to be with him, telling her lies about how he loved only her and hadn’t been with anyone else. He especially didn’t have to continue visiting brothels during their whole courthsip and up to two weeks before their wedding night. That was a rotten thing to do.
Cry4turtles
September 6, 2012 at 8:56 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
I certainly agree it was a rotten thing to do and I’m not trying to provide an excuse. I just can’t help but feel than some men are victims of their society’s sexual expectations as well and may be afraid to be honest lest they too are judged, and may (if possible) lose someone they really do love. And of course there’s that lack of STD education that will continue to wreak havoc. Sad indeed for Taslima.
Satta
September 3, 2012 at 8:54 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
I feel exactly the way I had felt when I read its Bangla version years ago…wrenched!
aids virus
September 4, 2012 at 2:08 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Lucky u were!AIDS was not so available that time like these days.
Z
September 4, 2012 at 6:20 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
That’s what you get for getting married at 20, you’re just a fucking kid. what the fuck do you know.
Winterwind
September 5, 2012 at 2:13 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Yeah, because older women never have cheating husbands. Especially when they live in a society where marrying young is normal.
Souvik Sinha
September 4, 2012 at 1:53 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Why does these kinds of things keep happening to her again & again?
Taslima Nasreen
September 4, 2012 at 9:02 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Not many times happened to her (me), it happened much more to others. She is an educated and independent person. Not many women are strong like her. It happens to millions of women not because women are bad. It happens because men are bad. It happens because abusers abuse and criminals commit crimes. It happens because you people blame and punish the victims, not the criminals.
No Light
September 4, 2012 at 10:57 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
They happen because she’s a woman in a patriarchal world.
She’s every woman. She’s a convenient hole, an ambulatory uterus, a bitch, a cunt, a punchbag, an unpaid servant, a creature.
She’s every woman under patriarchy, and everything will happen to every woman all the time, until patriarchy is destroyed.
Koushik
September 4, 2012 at 5:21 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Painful story. Every person should be honest and truthful.
StevoR
September 4, 2012 at 6:59 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
@ ^ Z : Right back at you! What the fuck do you know or understand ‘Z’?
Also Taslima clearly knows a lot and far from being a kid is the person writing and sharing this blog and such painful stories of her life with us. Bet you haven’t done so publicly and wouldn’t have the guts to do that just as you don’t have the guts to comment here with your real name.
StevoR
September 4, 2012 at 7:08 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
‘Z’ you are a coward and an idiot troll. But you now that already right?
StevoR
September 4, 2012 at 7:09 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Know.
StevoR
September 4, 2012 at 7:07 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Taslima, I don’t know what to say. But am very moved. That was brilliantly written, horrendous and so sad.
Wish I could do something to change things for you.
Wish the world wasn’t as hellish as it sometimes seems especially at times like that.
Internet [[hugs]] if you want them.
Respect and sympathies to you always.
anon
September 5, 2012 at 11:18 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Love is blind as they say; high time to look before we leap and get reports before we commit.
P.V. Rajan
September 5, 2012 at 5:05 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
DEAR TASLIMA,
WHEN YOU ARE WRITING YOUR STORY, THAT TEACH PEOPLE YOU SUFFERED MUCH MORE THAN THAT WHAT PEOPLE THINK ABOUT YOU.
THIS BOOK I READ IN MALAYALAM BEFORE 6 MONTHS. THAT TIME I WONDERED ABOUT YOUR BEGINING MARRAGE LIFE.
ESPECIALY GIRLS HAVE TO READ YOUR BOOKS FOR KNOWS HOW GIRLS ARE TRAPPED IN LOVE AND SPOIL THEIR LIFE.
jhalak
September 6, 2012 at 2:12 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Dear T,
In the morning went through the above blog and penned my views instantaneously. Wish to interact with you more.
Regards,
jhalak.
ahasanshikdar
September 11, 2012 at 7:38 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
abar o dukhho pelam
ravi sahney
December 3, 2012 at 12:21 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
after reading your post, i’ve a lump in my throat. im so sorry
jasmin
January 20, 2013 at 7:58 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Assallam bubbu
Love is blind n painful too,but we have to face all this. As we know ALLAH is always with his followers so always be happy in life at any situation.
wong
January 20, 2013 at 9:18 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
That was a make up story. Even trying to tell lies . A medical student can’t marry until she graduated . Typical Indian liar !
Shoily Rahman
February 4, 2013 at 4:40 pm (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
Felt so bad reading the story, Dont know why life has to be so unfair to some people. Dont know why cant men be honest to their partners/girlfriends/wives. If they do not want them, should leave the relationship first and then go to the other person. Why the hell they have to break someone’s trust? If he loved being with a prostitute girl then why he played with someone’s emotion/heart? Finally, this guy went to a prostitute, why not he proposed to his girl friend?
Then again there are bad girls too. Men go to women, they all are not prostitutes, lot of women stay in a relationship and keep secondary relationships here and there with other men. What you call them?
We women who want to live honestly and happily with one single relationship are the ones always hurt. In today’s world there is no value of honesty, integrity and sincerity. This is so very unfortunate.
Kiran
April 9, 2013 at 1:43 am (UTC 5.5) Link to this comment
I hate People like Rudra who kept his innocent true loving partner in dark for years, played with her emotions, taken her for granted cheating behind her.. Its really becoming trend of youth these days, being it adult male/female, they loose virginity to someone else before getting married and don’t even bother to inform/discuss about it with future partner and give them choice to decide.
Knowingly Unknowingly for the better future for their children many parents lie/hide the health disorders and get marriages done.. and most of such relationships end dramatically putting almost end to the future of an individual.
Its every individual’s responsibility to be transparent and honest to our loved ones..
Taslima Nasreen i must really appreciate your strong willpower you sustained such hard situations in life alone and i believe you must have moved on by now.. I wish you get lots of good friends and one special friend in your life who will make u forget about past and help you enjoy the present and plan for happy future…
Cheers!!