Narayanganj
DEBOK
Stumbling through the playful years of seven or may be eight when I cognized to my surroundings, my foster parents never had voiced that I was not their own blood or suggestion of any hint of so_ my mother was rather eminently tending and affectionate. My father nymphed quadruplet of prestiges, out of which my prescriptive mother dealt her body in brothels. In preservation of genus and its substantiation, she inclined to me rather with kindness as if to mitigate and guile my dampened stammering speech impediment. I was the decided precipitate residued by all that her motherly adoration could fondle.
Epilogue of her epicurean entrepreneur entrenched me in episodes where I attended to the fatigued proletariat with edibles and water in their infidel melee on discount of little remunerations.
One ominous genesis of inexcusable gaunt gumption, my gauche genealogy knifed scorns that derided cicatrices staining my defect of stuttering oration_ flawed untenable of unsung sneers, torments, ridicules and insults. In vicinity tactlessly I pounced vexed tidings inflecting my illegitimate father. He forwarded incising my cremation, penalized by raping me. I had no more words, none entity of any belief of prayers, who would I embrace for justice, sanctuary or panacea_ paradox that whom to trust or recognize confidence in I did not know. My emotions were a blend of wrath, phlebotomizing agony and handicapped debilitations, paralyzed heresy.
Whenever this infernal hiatus actualized in recluse, I scavenged my flesh vindictively. I could never exorcise, exiled from that breeding, epithet fugitive of pardon, amnesty or acquittal. I was not forsakenly fortunate to adjourn mercy to my mother, denied her and abandoned beyond conviction, siring my existence gestating repugnant sighs even from vile fouls. I too was soliciting in the streets, solvent in enslavement of noxious venoms, brochure of Shahnaz.
Unwarranted stake stamped my stagnancy in a cult, where I knew I was squalor of the society so I incited spleens that made insecure diffidence sport conscious in a gesture invoiced in my revenues. My patrons ironically reduced to dependency craving the amenity of my carnal dowry, orchestrating opaque poise.
(I was blessed with the love of this lady in APON GAON, 2011)
©Copyright 2012 Mehjabin Shahed
8th March 2012
Mehjabin Shahed 