PAINFUL LOVE

I felt lonesome and gibbered concerning everything here flinching in the process to understand me. I was in my impressive age of twenty nine in a strange African tribe. This tedious life I got from a black man was like knife piercing into my heart. I felt this sputtering blood flow inside my veins swelling and enlarging my entire body. I started to feel pains. I have now learnt about Oboe clan with sorrow and anguish. I contended in my mind so much difficulty about this clan and country. The next day to wake from bed and face Clem was tough. My eyebrows pulsated repeatedly in self-shame. I picked my lips into lumps; but my actions were toward an empty sky. This was often done with a hidden supplication for freedom, the blobs of tears dislodging. Soon I took to hiding my thoughts and concealed my pains and worries from him. My husband's self-imposed melancholy was all, and following him to a strange clan to fight his clannish problem was a mistake and my own despair, a place which I didn't quite understand too well just because I loved him and so followed him to his country, a black man? I'd a good job before I met him. He was a gentle man, kind and loving. I got hooked to his manner of jokes and fertile strength with woman. But here in his country it is hell in panama. To assuage this madness I tried for months to swallow my pride and behave myself. I came from Calcutta and my own estimation stepping to this place was blindness. His attitude became unbearable to me and he wasn't listening to me. His people were bad, and most of them wanted to kill him, still his thought betrayed him. I was battling with this. I was born and baked right in the city of Calcutta. We'd love. We shared it and received the joy of fixing things. But here I met commotion, violence and hatred of all sort hashed and chopped. I was brought up full of optimism in my place by my grandma, spent my life in nights with pop group, here I met Clem. But now I struggled to roost with the chickens and goats, and wake in the midnight by the chirrups of owls, and greeted by the squeals of quarrels. Every day in this cluster of plantain and palm tree tribe was as bitter as gall. This is the place. I held teary eyes and as if the air was drafting low into my nostrils. I have turned local by the look of things. I "This man is after destroying this land. He's raising unnecessary dust against the custom of the land which has kept us together for years. We must disown him and his thoughts.