‘Truly speaking, I intend to wed you,’ said Raktim to his fiancée, while exchanging talks.

‘No, it is a curse. I would not marry. It is absurd.’ Nilima answered with a serious tone.

‘Why absurd? ’

‘I’ m voluptuous whore. I’ve been pulled into the sex – trade. We can't be lured to make up an abode. We are like a cuckoo bird.’

‘please listen to what I suggest. You must have a choice of your own.’

‘How foolish you are! We should not have any choice.’

‘Why foolish? ’

‘We are doomed before our birth. Poverty is a curse to us. Besides, once a whore, is whore always .’

‘I promise, I’ll rescue you from that spider – trap .’

‘I promise, you can’t .’

Raktim and Nilima have been carrying their relationship as a lover and beloved by meeting together once or twice a week standing over the Kalighat bridge, Kolkata.

Raktim, an artist by profession, a young boy of twenty–five, is an inhabitant of the Suburban area of South Kolkata. He earned his bread by selling his paintings. His widowed mother Lolita, a lady of seventy, lived with him in their ancestral house.

Nilima is, a twenty-year-old girl, handsome, but her glittering beauty was overcast with black clouds. Her youthful vigour was blurred with yellow fog.

Sex – abuse had first been started when she was fifteen years old. Her celibacy was brutally butchered and it stirred Raktim much. He entered her territory as a messiah. His moral duty was to paint her newly.

One day Nilima uttered,' you are really a messenger of God. As far as my knowledge is concerned, God has sent you to me. I can see the light of the Sun .’

‘Please don’t mention. I love you too much. I figure you as my wife. That’s all. I'll release you from sexual exploitation and slavery .’

Nilima, being insisted to break the iron gate of life, did escape with Raktim. Now she looked greenish and her sportive existence encouraged him to start paintings. They became the happiest couple.

A few months later, Lolita came to know Nilima’s devastating phase. One day she said to Nilima, in the absence of her son,’ why do you select my son as your husband? ’

‘please mother, don’t ask me about it. You ask your son.’ Whispered Nilima.

Lolita with her suspicious mood,one day, said to him

‘Why do you take such a decision so early without my consent? ’

‘Mother, I’ll tell you later. I certify that she is my good wife. we are made for each other .’

‘O. K., no matter. But I like to know her family background .’Demanded mother.

‘Her past life is still unknown to me. But I‘m interested in her present state .’

‘Tell me clearly. Don’t hide anything. I think you've been trapped .’

‘Mother, I've rescued her from the red light area .’

‘Fie, what have you done, scoundrel! How dare you, ’

‘Why do you blame me ?’

‘You have chosen a girl who has lost her virginity. An unchaste girl can never be my daughter–in–law in that family .’

‘Mother, please listen to my speech. Don’t treat her inhumanely. It is one kind of torture .’ Raktim urged.

‘I can't accept her as your wife .’

‘Don’t say so, please. You are also a woman. please accept a helpless woman .’

Lolita vanished uttering nothing. Her swift departure proved huge hatred.

Just after a few minutes, Sonali stepped in Raktim’s chamber. She is his classmate. She is unmarried and she lived near his house. She said, ‘Hello, Raktim, where is your wife? Let her introduce to me .’

‘Hello Nilima – Come here ---’ cried Raktim .

Hearing his call, Nilima appeared.

Sonali uttered with a cynic attitude, ‘Are you a man! ’

‘ Why have you asked me such? What happens? ’

‘I can’t imagine, you‘ve married an unchaste girl. What is her social status? ’

‘ Don, ’t misunderstand me. It is our moral bonding .’

‘ What do you mean by ' moral bonding’ ?’

‘ You can’t feel it .’

‘ I ' ve no need of realization. I come to know everything from your mother .’

‘ Please don’t politicise it now .’

‘ Could you accuse me of politics? ’

‘Don’t react, try to feel, girls hailing from proletariat families are very wretched. They are sold and forced to sell their flesh. It is really pathetic. Why does our govt? allow it ?’ Continued Raktim in a polite tone.

‘So what? What can I do for that ?’

‘Please don’t ignore it. It is a burning issue .’

Women are being oppressed by patriarchal domination.It is our duty to cease that mal- practice soon .’ ‘ You do your duty, but I can’t –’

By uttering this, Sonali hurried toward home. Raktim kept himself in deep thought while being alone in his chamber ‘The terms 'used’ and 'unused’ are applied still, particularly to woman; not to male .’

Months rolled on, and unfortunately, Nilima died of an unknown disease. Raktim was torn with pain . He was bled with the severest sorrow. But his mother and Sonali were very happy.

Raktim deeply absorbed himself in Paintings. Wonderful pictures came out from his brush. He recollected English poet Shelley’s famous line ' Sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought .’This disaster led him to paint agony and his paintings are the sweetest now.

In the meanwhile, Sonali changed her way of discussion. She advocated herself as a sympathiser by consoling him with philosophic words. On the other hand, his mother advised him, ' What God wills, is for good .’

‘ Why do you mention it, mother? I have lost my beloved wife, is it God’s blessings?’

‘Yes, your wife was inauspicious and unchaste. ’

‘Please, mother, don’t say so. I am now exhausted .’

After a few days, Lolita approached,' I request you to marry Sonali. Do you agree ?’

‘If you are pleased, I may give my consent. Of course, if she agrees to marry me .’

‘I know, she will marry you without any protest .’

‘I think, she will not marry me .’

Sonali followed their conversation.

Lolita said to her,’ Hello Sonali, will you stand by my son, in a crucial state? ’

‘If you order me, I must obey you.’

‘You will be my son’s wife.’

‘I like to be his life – partner without any complaint.’

‘I think, you will do wrong to marry me because I am not a virgin.

Sonali remained silent and time waits for ‘yes ’ or 'no' 

.    .    .