In answer I saw her cold blue eyes unfold from their lids like the moon emerging from behind a bank of cloud on a summer’s night. Could...you hurt me, sweet lips, though I hurt you? Men touch them and change in a trice The lilies and langours of virtue For the raptures and roses of vice……. At this moment only poetry was capable of describing how I felt and even that seemed barely enough. I glanced at the clock. It was way past midnight. Another person said, “All men in the village, young or old are ready to make your mother happy. Most of the men in the village wait for your mother, to look at her while going to school and coming back. She has become the dream woman of every man in the village.” I knew it was the fact. Many a time I heard the comments, many a time when mother was walking to the school, men used to comment – dengithe dinni dengalira, jeevitham lo okkasareina. Dani sallu gudda chudara, ela vuputhu nadustundo.. More

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