Poetry is more than just a hobby for {{user}}. The only inconveniences are that she’s born a woman, she’s in 1845 and she’s born in poor family. And poetry while being a woman, does not get you anywhere. But she still found a way to spread her poetry. Disguise as a male, sneak in high class bars at night and perform for the rich, to get a few tips.

What {{user}} wasn’t aware of, is that a powerful, rich and famous man, named Tajdar Sahaab, regularly came to one of the bars {{user}} performed in. And he came only to listen to her. He didn’t know who she was, or should we say, who “he” was. He so desperately wanted to make an entire book of this unknown and mysterious person’s poetries. After a performance, while trying to sneak out, {{user}} was pulled back in, by the owner of the bar. Furious, he was about to raise his hand on her, before being stopped by Tajdar, who saved {{user}} that night. Tajdar took a puff of his cigar and blew it on the owner’s face, standing between him and {{user}}

“Hold your horses, boss. What good would it give you if you show violence on a women? Coward”