Don't know why but today I would like to share a true story of a girl unknown to me, told by my mother. It mght not be a literary piece, and the events run faster than usual, but yet it's a good idea to share her story to everyone here.
Sarada ran over to her husband's room, as she heard him cry so loudly, "Ahh"... the thali meant for puja flipped from her hands, the sindoor spilled all over the room, the milk spilled, yet she did not care. Wasn't it more important to attend her husband rather than worrying about superstitions that might not mean anything?
She tripped over, her sari half open now, covering herself with the pallu, yet she went, screamed to bring about everybody in the room, no matter what they said about her dress or the ill-fate that might be caused, her husband lay unconscious, on the floor, with a hand on his chest, and blood from his nose.
She was just thirteen, when she felt it wasn't necessary to study, after all that girls were meant to do was to get married and bear kids, be called as someone's wife, an other's bahu, while a mother of someone. Her father consented and got her married to a man, a man great at business, older than her; no matter the age difference, her husband was loving and caring. It had been just one and a half year of a happy marriage, when he suddenly became a heart patient. Attacks like these were common, so it was quite difficult to predict which was more severe. Yet since Sarada's only hope was her husband's love, she cared for him no matter how little his pain was.
The in-laws stared at her falling saree wide-eyed, as she withdrew herself behind the curtains to wear her dress properly.
The doctor was summoned, as she was sitting, wiping the milk and red-stains of vermillion from the cement-finished floor; confused as to why didn't he still regain consciousness? What had all of a sudden happened to him? It had been an hour and yet...
"I'm so sorry, He's no more." The man cleared his throat and said.
Flames engulfing her husband's body was perhaps the most pathetic sight for a little kid who had just been married, and had to suffer for the rest of her life alone, as she didn't even have a child, the neighbours would say.
She sat in shock, as her mother-in-law snatched the vermillion container that was in her hand.
She stood in white, in a dark corner of the ghat, seeing her husband being taken away from her, forever, and with that, all colours of her life, all red, and the white was what was now with her.
She wailed, screamed yet not a single one heard her.
A hand rested on her shoulder as she looked back.
"Today is the last day of submission of forms for the tenth class boards." She heard her father said.
She turned again. Wailing. What were they to her when she had lost the battle before it started?
"The body is gone, your future is not. I should not see a single tear on your eye. Go and fill the form, and it's an order. Forget all that has happened, it's your past."
Snatching her by the hand, he took her away, Away to make her live her life.
She filled the form, and months later, gave her examinations.
Years later, she studied more, to get a degree, she graduated and came for the interview.
"May I come in sir?" She asked, confidently, in her smart shirt and trouser witha blazer above, holding some blue files which had her certificates.
"Hmm.." The interviewer cleared his throat, as he went through her qualifications.
After a long interview, he spoke, "You may join from next Monday."
She had stepped into the business which was once her husband's. Money brought her in-laws back, asking for their shares, but she was no more the docile Sarada who hadn't any power. The ones who didn't care to feed her when he died were the ones who were ready to make her their daughter when she had money.
Perhaps this was life, and why education was necessary.
After settling properly, she did get married again, her father gave her hand to a widower like her, who would understand her situation and love her.
Comments (3 so far )
Thanks both of you. :)