Cent Of a Woman.

She clenched the 500 rupee note tightly in her sweaty palms, as she walked briskly on uneven ground,  with teary eyes, bowed head, and a strange taste in her mouth, she wanted to scream and shout but the little printed piece of paper in her hand with a scribble that promised that the said amount will be paid to the bearer on demand, and a printed sentence that assured that ‘Rightful earning is equivalent to prayers’ seemed to silence her……….. She wasn’t sure whether her earning was rightful, or her prayer that no one noticed her accepting that note in exchange of a favor, answered.

She dodged the stray dogs and scantily clad children with runny noses, protuberant tummies and matted hair, playing in harmony in front of a makeshift door and entered a place, she called home.

She was coming from another home, where she worked as a maid, her job was to make sure everything was neat and clean, washed up, dusted, sparkling, you have to make the floor so clean that you can lick it, without the fear of having any germs, the Madam said to the fourteen years old on her first day of work …………. Today she had to lick, and suck a throbbing piece of meat …………… She had no other option and she complied, took the money, and handed it over to her father ………………. Who was not happy with the amount he received, and cursed her for not working hard.

She sobbed and remembered the day she received double the amount in exchange of a torn membrane …… and some blood …… Dignity and honor was a luxury, she could never afford………………. All she got was a dose of ECP. She was grateful for that, the honorable husband of the pretty madam never bothered her again, but the wealthy pair employed faithful servants, who used the things discarded by their masters, faithfully, gladly and frequently  ………..

She received a slap on her face for being lazy, The Man of the house walked out in a hurry ……………… Another tear rolled down her cheek …………….

The Madam pressed the brakes of her nearly new car in front of the third ATM machine on her way home, and entered the small cubicle, praying that this one is working and the link is not down, she punched in her pin code, selected the default account and touched the screen for balance inquiry, a small printed piece of paper came out, she entered the maximum amount she could withdraw in a day, put the wad of money in her designer bag, and walked out ……………. Work was her savior, it gave her independence, freedom, strength, a fat pay cheque and a reason to wake up and look forward to every day…

She was a sharp, intelligent woman, who climbed up the career ladder quickly, the perks she enjoyed didn’t come cheap, success for beautiful and intelligent females like her, living in the land of the pure, never came as a reward, it had to be earned, sometimes by bending in awkward positions, and some times by trading morality with a promotion. Confidential deals were sealed and negotiated in sensitive secretive environment of Board/Meeting/Hotel rooms, in a strictly professional manner. Honor and dignity were equities cheaper than a yearly bonus, and fidelity was just another whore, in the slutville of corporate world, standing at the lowest step of the ladder of success….

A well trained, meaty, elderly servant, who stole some money from her purse last night, opened the door for her as she walked on the sparkling clean floor, and was greeted by her husband. Pleasantly surprised to find him home at that time of the day, she smiled at him, as he hugged her close and whispered sweet nothings in her ear …………. And made a demand, she was not supposed to refuse, religiously.

She picked up a long, stray brown hair from his shirt, and complied with the wish ……………….

He thrust the wad of money in his coat pocket after a few minutes, and left home in a hurry ………….. After ages, a tear rolled down her cheek…………. The smart woman, was dumb enough to invest her hard earned money in the stock exchange of emotions, and feelings ………….. on the shares destined to be doomed.

The Girl with long, silky brown hair, tried to catch her breath under the weight of someone else’s husband, who smiled at her and whispered sweet nothings in her ear………………

Later that evening, she handed over a handsome amount of money to the boy, she loved, who promised her that he will return her debt as soon as possible and she will be the first person, he will sponsor, after he manages to get a VISA to the first world stamped, he kissed her soft full lips and fondled her perky bosom passionately, and reminded her that he had to go to the immigration consultant and pay him the fee…………… He dropped her at the corner of her street and left in a hurry …………. She walked on the street, alone, knowing that he will never return ………………… She wiped off the tear that rolled down her young, rosy, flushed cheek……………… and dialed a number on her mobile, to fix another date, with another husband …………….. She had mouths to feed, and honor and dignity could not put bread and butter on the table …………………..or pay the electricity bill, house rent or school fee of younger siblings……………….

Every cent earned by a woman that day…………………….. was as worthless and disgusting, as salty secretions and fake promises, ejaculated by a male body.

“Hasool e Rizq e Hallal Ain Ibadat Hay” is still printed on every note issued by the “State bank Of Pakistan”, with a promise that the said amount will be handed over to the bearer on demand.

500 Rupee Note


31st December, 2013.



11 thoughts on “Cent Of a Woman.

  1. I think I should do away with the tradition of using any appreciative words for this blog because it is beyond such words. This blog is about writing the ‘reality’ as it looks to the writer and to most of us. It is written in words and with emotions that requires a braver heart. This reality looks too cruel for most of us to face because we are essentially part of it, so we prefer to look away from it or laugh it off in disguised jokes between friends that boasts of our sexual prowess.

    There is strong presence of themes where males use the fairer sex for sexual exploitation. There is talk of corporate world, shiny cars, ATM’s, maids, crumpled currency notes in sweaty palms, infidelity, tears, sweet nothings and more.


  2. I am so glad I stumbled upon your blog. Such strong, beautiful writing. It inspires me to love myself and treat myself and those very few who truly love and respect me, with dignity. Uffff shit I never thought a blog would have this much impact on me. Thank you Seemi.


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