Downtrodden, depressed and deprived! That is what I associated with the lady sitting opposite to me. During one of my early morning runs I was passing through a picturesque village in South Goa. I decided to take a short breather, a sip and continue running. A temple nearby seemed a perfect place to park myself and enjoy the scenic natural serenity around. While sitting on the porch near the temple doorstep, my mind wandered. Just then, an old lady popped out of nowhere and sat opposite to me on the porch.
The lady wore a ragged sari that had seen better days, her hair majored with white strands and face covered with wrinkles all over, testament to the fact that time was not on her side. She was muttering to herself. As, I was about to end my pitstop and get back to running she suddenly looked at me. Her eyes sparkled, almost emerald green shade. She pursed her lips and spoke hoarsely. “Can you tell me the time?”. I replied that it was 8.00 a.m. She quietly nodded and then after sometime said she needed to go for breakfast.
She neatly started to fold her blankets. That’s when my eyes fell on the household items, she had with her. Under the porch, was a bag filled with clothes, an earthen pot, few daily essential items. This spiked my interest. I asked, “Do you stay here?” As she finished tucking the blankets under the pillow, startled by my voice, spoke with a wry smile, “Yes, this is my home now”. I asked her, “Where is your real home?” This time she replied with a hint of irritability and spoke with arms out wide, “This is my home, now”. Intrigued, I decided to prod a little bit more. I continued, “How come? Where is your family?”. This seemed to have touched a nerve and eventually unlocked the pandoras box. She stopped doing everything else and shifted her gaze towards me. She cleared her throat and set out to answer my query in great detail with her astounding narrative…
She was the single sister to 4 brothers and the youngest. Her father was a daily wager and worked at small time jobs. Mother tended to kids and managed the house. At an early age, she matured rapidly and handled most of the household activities, aiding her mother in spite of adhering to school curriculum. Her siblings were in their own worlds and hardly there at home. She felt closest to her mother. They shared a very special bond and were more friends than mother-daughter.
Unfortunately, mother was suffering from cancer and family did not have the financial might for her treatment. She breathed her last when the girl was only 7. She barely had time to grieve her mother’s death when she was thrust upon the entire household responsibility – cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, mopping, managing groceries.
Right from dawn till well past midnight, she would tend to her father and her brothers. After mother’s death, father had turned into an alcoholic. He would barely acknowledge her existence. For any insignificant mistake, he would not only scream, but vent out his anger and beat her. The brothers who always disliked her, due to her proximity to mother, would snigger and pass insensitive comments about her looks and character. In her own home, she was more of a servant then a family member. One by one, the brothers married off and they settled into their self-consuming family lives, while forgetting about their sister over time.
As she approached marriageable age, father started scouting for groom. Through a distant relative, he heard of potential groom based in remote village, the name of which she had never heard before. She had no say in the matter. All the decisions were being taken by her father, including choosing and talking to the groom and their family. Neither she knew the place where she was being married off nor she knew the groom. She had not even met him while the marriage was being fixed. Her father was determined to marry her under any circumstances.
Come the marriage day, she had butterflies in her stomach. This was the biggest day of her life. The marriage turned out to be a low-key affair, due to the thin budget from the bride’s side. She feared not all was too well, as there was a lot of squabbling between her father and the grooms’ family and relatives. Eventually, she bid her goodbye, not knowing if she will ever return to her village. She had her doubts and apprehensions. But what happened next would only need nerves of steel to endure.
After reaching her new habitat, when husband started interacting, reality homed in like a striking snake. She could barely understand his slurred words and to her disbelief, she had married an old man, 30 years her senior. She was doomed. It did not help matters that the in-laws for reasons not known to her were hostile right from the get go. Destiny was not done with her, yet!
She was harrowed by her in laws. It dawned upon her, the reason for hostility was due to non-payment of dowry. Her father could not cough up the sum demanded. She was facing the music now. The household chores never seemed to end. Just as her pre-marriage days, from early dawn to late past midnight, she would barely get time to breathe. Not only the in laws but the husband as well ignored her presence. She was again treated like a domestic help. Only this time the hostility was up several notches. Sometimes she even felt like giving up on life. But never found the courage to act upon it.
As time flew, things hardly changed. Unfortunately, she was never able to bear the fruit of motherhood. Her husband and in-laws blamed and cursed her for the shortcoming. The beatings never stopped. Once she missed out to add salt in a recipe. For her mistake, she was made to sit out of the house through the night amid the chilling winters. The brutality never seized. She learnt her father had passed away whom she never met after marriage. Not once did her father or brother check upon her while she was inmate at her husbands’ place. If life was tough thus far, it would take a twist for the worse in the coming days.
Due to old age, husband suffered a stroke. He could not survive the onslaught and breathed his last shortly. She entered widowhood. In laws drove her out of the house, as they despised her even more and blamed her for his death. She could not fathom the twisted fate mounding wretchedness on her. Misery was heaped upon her like a haystack. She decided to leave the village once and for all and traveled for days together till her feet no longer supported her. She was exhausted, with life, yet she would not give into begging to anyone.
At last, after being on the road for several days, she decided to stop. She found a distant temple in a remote village and thought it would be a good place to rest. The temple priest taking pity, asked her to stay at the temple, but only if she aided in guarding the temple at the same time. Sometimes the devotees would get her food, someone donated blanket and pillow.
I was aghast to hear her story. How can anybody sustain so much pain, anguish in their life. I tried to offer her monetary aid, which she staunchly refused. She said, money was of no use to her. She aspired nothing. God would take care of her. I offered few eatables, which she duly accepted. I silently promised myself, to check with old-age homes if they could take her under their roof.
Before bidding adieu, I asked her name. She replied, “I’m the flower that blooms in lakes.” She smiled radiantly. Her spirit remained intact in-spite of the hardships throughout her life. I realized that we crib for not having the things we desire while never once being thankful to the life that we have. My respect for Kamala grew even more.
