Sleep. We all do it, with our eyes closed, lying on a bed. But I
just thought of someone who does more with it. Those who work on it. Those who
spent more with it than sleeping. Their eyes may be closed occasionally. They
may sweat, weep, cry, in fact they finds their breads from it.. Those who are named
by the society as prostitutes.
I decided to go after them. It was my job because I am a
journalist. That’s what I chose to be.
I hate this profession even though I was so thrilled and
cherished for it until I realized that I am just a property of someone. Now I
think the business of journalism is to hide and destroy the truth. My
company pays me for not expressing my thoughts, actually I may be kicked out off
the job if I obey my mind and express it through word. What I need to do here
is to sit and obey. Yes. I prefer to call myself as an intellectual prostitute.
I traced
and found some one for my story. She was beautiful, energetic, and appears to
be young. I had not to go for a night club nor to the other sin cities to
satisfy my need. I just got her from the roadside. We both smiled at each
other. She was so passionately looking at me as if we both knew each other ages before. I think her boot-heels were higher than my standard. Yes. She gained my attention,
but not respect.
We suddenly became friends.
I don’t know if I call her as my friend
is right or wrong??? She seems more familiar and communicative. But I did not
ask about her history because I was hesitant to hear the same stories of disrupted
wedlock, fake boyfriend, rape, or may be other predictable fables.
Walking on streets, she told me more about myself. How could she
know all this? She was well known about my job, professional ethics, academics
and some of my qualities that are even forgetful for me. I was totally
surprised. Is it my fame? Or unpopularity? I was describing by a prostitute to whom I did not meet before. Honestly, I didn’t have such an experience with any women. Then how??? I could
not think much about it as she was talking my ears off. Are these prostitutes
all good blabbers??? I could have suggested them another respectful job that
demands fluency and vocabulary. Anyway, she was so happy meeting me. I would
like to treat her as a princess like all men treat women like a princess only if they
can be used as a prostitute.
Did she fall in love with
me? I really doubted. Or is this her
real professionalism? I could not judge it as reality was the distance between me
and her. Me too was sufficiently infatuated, attracted or better to say
seduced. Suddenly she stopped as I noticed a deep breath with her eyes closed. Oh
my god? Am I entering into more trouble? Yes . It was. She asked me to say that three
beautiful words. Although I failed to
rule out what it is, she helped me to say what she wish to hear from me. I love you. I repeated what she told. "Did
all the prostitutes see the movie Pretty
women?"
When I said, she jumped and danced like a little girl. Its true
that these type of girls are too aggressive. I hate it and uttered myself ‘ its better not to priorities anyone to whom
you are just an option.’
Anyway, all my ethics were diluted by hormones came out of lust. I
just obeyed it as she cried and bleed on bed.
It’s hard to explain how one falls in love with someone. Its hard to know the way how love comes. It may be from roadside, parks, beaches, classrooms, office and may be without even eyesight. Anyhow I am happy with her.its good to say , we are happy with each other.
Actually, You and me, our dirty and prejudice mind made my wife a prostitute. But she
was not. She was my reader who was anxious and excited to meet me when we first met on streets. May be one
of the best readers of mine. For ever.......
