Raj, you should never have deceived me like this, because I am a woman. You knew very well about your own weakness—that you were an impotent man. Before marrying me, you should have clearly and honestly told your family about your condition. Had your parents known the truth, perhaps they would not have forced you into marriage, and I would not have been deceived like this. You did not only lie to your family; you did not only ruin my life. You lied to the entire village, to society, to your family, and even to yourself, and completely shattered both your life and mine like fragile glass.

The day of our wedding night, when you touched my entire body, awakened desire within me, yet I saw you yourself frozen cold like ice—I felt as if the ground had slipped from beneath my feet. When I felt your touch, I had believed that I was a desperate woman who had suffered twenty-seven years of suppressed sexual thirst, and that today, for the first time in my life, I would swim in the blissful ocean of sexuality to quench that hunger and longing. But Raj, the reality was entirely the opposite. In that moment, I felt like a red-hot piece of iron placed on an anvil, waiting for the blacksmith to strike it with his hammer and shape it into a sharp weapon of his choosing. Yet because of your deception, all those desires of mine remained unfulfilled.

I kept burning every moment in the fire of mental agony. You, too, were burning in the fire of deception that you yourself had ignited—but that was your own personal consequence. I, however, burned every moment without any fault of my own. My happiness, enthusiasm, and youth were swallowed as if by a black hole, reduced to utter nothingness. Life grew completely dark—no path, no solution, no remedy. Crushing everything beneath my own feet, I kept moving forward into relentless darkness.

After the vermilion of your name was placed upon the parting of my hair, I could neither remain free nor make my parents happy. To whom could I narrate my story and my suffering? In the echoing screams of torment, all my restlessness burned together, endlessly. I surrendered my youth to your own college mate, Samarpan—only so that the secret of your and my story would remain hidden from the world. By doing so, the heat of my suppressed youth would be extinguished, and the honor and lineage of your family would also be preserved. This was the solution that arose in my mind, and thus I surrendered myself to Samarpan.

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1) Haraeka Chhoraharu (Poem Collection)