Dhakabooks

  Not long ago, the canvas had many colors. The smile was not defined from the cheeks only but by her beautiful eyes too. There was something very refreshing about her way to speak and looking at the world around her. Her heart was a source or pure white ray that could make anyone feel cheerful. Her beauty was something the only music and art could define. When smiling, looking at her made people think that the view was a painting of thousand thoughts and million emotions. Her way of interacting was so delightful that everyone became a prisoner of it. Admiring her was like watching the sunset with a very soft music in the ears. In pages of history many songs were sang for her beauty, different poems were written for her smile. She was just like a myth which was captured by some lucky eyes. She was wise beyond her age, being a bit of an enigma. She was young, but her wisdom was curved like a semi-wise and naïve but yet understanding soul. All she wanted was just a bit of love and a poti

  In unseen despise and prison  they burn and rot. For a fickle of poison classed as wretched men’s eye and dirty thought. Nobel is their identity, they are the warmest entity. A child’s first teacher, not less than any preacher. A kind with love of no bound only for them the world still goes round. Blood in our veins is their gift to us, every living soul is born from their body cuts. Mothers, sisters, wives, Aunts Respected women is their call without whom our universe is sure to fall. The Quran directs women the respect and honor three folds of men. Letting us bow to their fame. Genesis lets us learn a name, ‘Eve’ as the mother of human realm.  Four Vedas shows us the identities of women as the creations frames. Buddhism texts scripts women as the world flowers vase. So, Dear brothers. I ask, why is this noble class of creation getting a shamed mask? Shouldn’t Glory and respect be their right from us? Why are they wrapped around only lust? Shouldn’t