They all regarded the old woman as a parasite. The poor destitute woman had no other family, friend or home and no where else to go. The years had told upon her health and energy. She could drag herself from the varanda to her little cot inside the living room and then back to the varandha. And this was what she always did.
No one could reckon how she became connected to the Mishra family, no one really seem to care. She was just there with them from the beginning. Some said she had nursed the motherless Raghu and reared him to his youth. Raghu Mishra's father had kept her in his house as a sort of a glorified maidservant. After his father's death Raghu felt inclined to her as he did and he had most conviniently chosen to forget that she had nurtured him during his infancy.
His callousness set a pattern for the rest of the family to follow. Sarla his wife muttered curses after curses at the poor woman and called on all the gods and godesses to come to her rescue by bringning death to the old woman."Ah", she yelled that food for nothing has spilled betel juice on my clean varanda. How many times have i told you to sit in the backyard", she went away muttering and grumbling and came back with a broom and a pail of water to clean the mess. "Just look at the number of paan (betel leaf) she has the whole day, who can supply and fulfil her queenly desires"? "Look what you have done daughter-in-law" saying this she exhibited her wet sari. In our days we never used to treat our mother in law like this." "Oh my god , you misearble creature don't call me by that name again. I am not your daughter-in-law, isnt it enough that i have bear your presence and hear your crow like voice everyday", and muttering her customary oaths, she went into the kitchen.The old lady accustomed to all this, moved from the place to a dry place and chewed the paan, this time careful not to spit.
The only vice the old woman allowed herself was gluttony. She had an unappeasing appeatite for the good things of life. Many a times her kind neighbour would bring her to her house and she could eat her fill. Another pleasure she indulged in was to play with Bindo, Raghu's five year old daughter. Both would sit in the varenda in the evenings with the old woman narrating folk stories and songs in her hoarse voice. Little Bindoo was enchanted by all this and would say 'grandma please one more song, only one"."No more songs until you promise........and she muttered something in her ear. "okay', Bindu said getting up to oblige the old woman with the bribe. she went indoors and as quietly as possible came out with some ripe mangoes from the kitchen.She ate one and gave the rest to her grandma who began eating hungrily. Sarla's shrewd eyes had caught this motion. " What you miserable creature, you are up to your old tricks again, chee chee, teaching my innocent one to steal? "At your age arent you ashamed". Saying this she rushed into the house with Bindu. The poor widow began to cry bitterly. Little Bindu felt helpless and took refuge with her books.
It was Bindu's birthday, all the guests had arrived , the priest was ready with the puja. Sarla was busy and Bindo laughed and chatted with the guests flaunting her new dress. Everyone bubbled with mirth. All except the old woman. Where was she? No one seemed to bother about her. Sarla had locked her up in a little room since the morning .In such an auspicious occasion like this she thought it was best that the old lady remained out of her way and bring no ill luck to Bindu. The room had only one window facing the kitchen. As the aroma of the savoury dishes wafted towards her, saliva trickled down her toothless mouth and she found her hunger uncontrollable. It was agonising and wicked, she thought, to leave her like this and engage in merrymaking.
She tried to open the door but it was closed, her thumps on the door were to no avail. She dragged herself to the open window, hunger had blinded her sense of propotion and decorum. Just like a little animal, she climbed up to open the upperdoor bolt, which was not within the reach of her hands.She then tried very hard to get a clear view of the delicious dishes from the window sill. It was amazing to see how much strength she had gathered into her weak frame. Bindo meanwhile wandered about the house for her grandma and then suddenly she heard a loud , hoarse cry.
It was only then they noticed the scene before their eyes when Sarla opened the door. It was too late. The old woman had slipped . She now lay in a heap on the floor at their feet, moaning and groaning. She clasped both her hands as if asking them for forgiveness. Nobody understood her actions or nobody really cared. Gradually the moaning ceased. Everything was still. The guests shifted sensing that the party had ended. Sarla clutched her little Bindo and wailed " its a bad omen , its a bad omen for my home".
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Visit to Kapilas - 1351 Grandsteps of Godliness and Goodness
There is no village in India that has not a rich legendry history of its own to boast of. Some god or godlike here has passed by the village-Rama might have rested under this peepal tree, Sita might have dried her cloths after her bath on this yellow stone, or some Mahatma might have slept by the village gate or gave his sermons siiting on flat rock slab under that banyan tree.
Each village has a story to tell. 'Sitanka Antudisala' in Kapilas is famous beacause people believe it was here that Sita had stayed and brought up young Luv and Kush. Kapilas is the heavenly abode of Kailashpati, Parvati and Lord Narayana. It is said that Pratap Rudra Dev, the 15th century king of Kalinga (now Orissa, a state in India) built the temple almost 600 years ago.
Kapilas is almost picturesquely perfect.The whole place seems to be enclosed by the towering mountains. As one walks up some 1351 grand steps leading to the interior of the Shiva temple which cut through the mountains, one can notice that at several places there are little streams flowing lazily through the mountain folds. In some places there streams gush out with great force. The hills are densely forested and in which resides a tribe of monkeys. It was the holy month of 'Kartika' that we had visited the place. As it was an auspicious day, many pligrims had come to have a darshan of Lord Shiva known as 'Chandrasekhara' here. our village achieves special significance on the Shiv ratri day when devotees come here to offer their humble prayers and light the holy lamp on top of the mountain. Besides the Shiva temple there is the Parvati mandir where resides the beautiful and bounteous mother Parvati. To the locals it is she who protects them through famine and disease, death, and despair. As the pundit offered the puja, we closed our eyes and prayed with him, "Parvati, great goddess, protect us!O benign one!"
Climbing another 150 steps or so, we saw the beautiful idol of Narayana. The priest serving the lord described him as the master of the threee worlds "dharti, patal and akash". High up the steps is the "Sitanka Antudisala". It is a not so impressive a place as one had thought of. To reach the place we had to climb uphill and it nearly took us half an hour to reach the place. They say it was here that Sita had given birth to Luv and Kush. The 'antudisala' is a natural cave hollowed out of the mountains side through deep erosion by wind and water. It is irony of fate that the sons of such a great king have been cradled on these bed of rocks. For nothing remains except some huge boulders that bear mute witness to their nativity.There we came across a medicant sittting cross legged on a flat rock slab as it it were a throne beside this ancient shrine.The branchs of the tress canopying the mountain course rustled and trembled with the agitation of the birds and monkeys settling for the day. Nothing disturbed him not even these menacing monkeys. I bowed low and tried to touch his feet."He will destroy is if we attempt to usurp his rights', saying this, he closed his eyes. It was better not to disturb him so i walked my way.We me few of these servants of godchanting holy hymns to themselves. A gentle peacefulness enveloped the whole atmosphere. this is their happy abode , beyond the realms of worldly cares.
At Kapilas the most lovely spot the resthouse os crouched on the side of the cliff, the varendha looking down into the main arena of the three shrines. The whole thing givs a look of a tiny island. For many Kapilas is their favourite picnic spot. The deer park, which is nearby provides amusement to both the young and the old. After climbing down the 1351 grand steps we came her to rest our tiring feet. As night approached , cart after cart groaned the narrow and dusty roads of Kapilas. They were also on their way home like us. We did hear the cart men singing through the hollow of the night as the carts passed into the morning that would rise over these silent mountains of Kapilas.
Each village has a story to tell. 'Sitanka Antudisala' in Kapilas is famous beacause people believe it was here that Sita had stayed and brought up young Luv and Kush. Kapilas is the heavenly abode of Kailashpati, Parvati and Lord Narayana. It is said that Pratap Rudra Dev, the 15th century king of Kalinga (now Orissa, a state in India) built the temple almost 600 years ago.
Kapilas is almost picturesquely perfect.The whole place seems to be enclosed by the towering mountains. As one walks up some 1351 grand steps leading to the interior of the Shiva temple which cut through the mountains, one can notice that at several places there are little streams flowing lazily through the mountain folds. In some places there streams gush out with great force. The hills are densely forested and in which resides a tribe of monkeys. It was the holy month of 'Kartika' that we had visited the place. As it was an auspicious day, many pligrims had come to have a darshan of Lord Shiva known as 'Chandrasekhara' here. our village achieves special significance on the Shiv ratri day when devotees come here to offer their humble prayers and light the holy lamp on top of the mountain. Besides the Shiva temple there is the Parvati mandir where resides the beautiful and bounteous mother Parvati. To the locals it is she who protects them through famine and disease, death, and despair. As the pundit offered the puja, we closed our eyes and prayed with him, "Parvati, great goddess, protect us!O benign one!"
Climbing another 150 steps or so, we saw the beautiful idol of Narayana. The priest serving the lord described him as the master of the threee worlds "dharti, patal and akash". High up the steps is the "Sitanka Antudisala". It is a not so impressive a place as one had thought of. To reach the place we had to climb uphill and it nearly took us half an hour to reach the place. They say it was here that Sita had given birth to Luv and Kush. The 'antudisala' is a natural cave hollowed out of the mountains side through deep erosion by wind and water. It is irony of fate that the sons of such a great king have been cradled on these bed of rocks. For nothing remains except some huge boulders that bear mute witness to their nativity.There we came across a medicant sittting cross legged on a flat rock slab as it it were a throne beside this ancient shrine.The branchs of the tress canopying the mountain course rustled and trembled with the agitation of the birds and monkeys settling for the day. Nothing disturbed him not even these menacing monkeys. I bowed low and tried to touch his feet."He will destroy is if we attempt to usurp his rights', saying this, he closed his eyes. It was better not to disturb him so i walked my way.We me few of these servants of godchanting holy hymns to themselves. A gentle peacefulness enveloped the whole atmosphere. this is their happy abode , beyond the realms of worldly cares.
At Kapilas the most lovely spot the resthouse os crouched on the side of the cliff, the varendha looking down into the main arena of the three shrines. The whole thing givs a look of a tiny island. For many Kapilas is their favourite picnic spot. The deer park, which is nearby provides amusement to both the young and the old. After climbing down the 1351 grand steps we came her to rest our tiring feet. As night approached , cart after cart groaned the narrow and dusty roads of Kapilas. They were also on their way home like us. We did hear the cart men singing through the hollow of the night as the carts passed into the morning that would rise over these silent mountains of Kapilas.
Bride Burning - From Holy Fire to Unholy Pyre
Meena was burned to death by her sister in-law in collusion with Meena's mother in-law and husband. This happened when Meena's parents refused to meet the constant dowry demands. In her dying declaration, Meena indicated how she was mentally and physically tortured by her new family.Twenty two year old Vimala was burned to death after seven years of her marriage. Sudha was married to Laxman Kumar in Delhi. She was subjected mistreatment by her husband and in-laws since the very first month of her marriage for non-payment of 'sufficient' dowry. Sudha was burnt to death when she was eight months pregnant.
You must have read about thousands of bride burning cases like these as you go through the newspapers.There is no end to the crime against women. They are a blot on a society that claims to be progressive and unfettered by outworn traditions. Are Indian women destined to be wedded to the flames? The holy fire which witnesses the couple's first steps towards domesticity may easily turn into a vicious death trap.
Recent surveys in India have undoubtedly established the rising trend in bride buring deaths, a major form of dowry death. Although the system of giving dowry to a daughter is an age old institutions, the issue has suddenly acquired pernicious overtones in recent years. this problem of demand and supply continues to be an accepted social practice and there seems to be no end to this.
What happens to the girl when she is wedded to the 'paraya ghar'? As she steps into the house, she faces all sorts of cruel and inhuman torture and exploitation. There are those who protest and break free from this nuptial bond in sharp contrast to those who silently suffer harrassment and indignities for having brought insufficient dowry.The humiliation generally starts with criticism followed by familiar scenes- insults, abuses and demand for more money and finally she is beaten up and set on fire. today young brides and brides to be carry a vision in their minds of a daemonic women haing a kerosene tin in one hand and match box in the other hand and shrilling menacingly, ' marry without dowry and repent later' . This vision is enough to give her nightmares and nervous breakdown.
During the entire drama involving the bride and her mother in law where is the 'pati paremeshwar'? the saviour , the bread winner, the hero who had vowed to support his wife through the thick and thin of life. In some cases he is out of the scene and in some he has turned into a non-entity, hiding behind his mother's 'palu' or maybe he had risen like a beast of prey ready to thrust her into the pyre his mother has lit.
It is ironical that a country which worships women as godesses should treat her as a commodity to be consigned to the flames when she cannot fulfill the material greed of the family. It is also ironical that a women in her role as a wife and mother particularly as mother embodies all that our culture holds dear- sacrifice, endurance patience- can turn into a cold blooded scheming woman known as mother in law burning her son's wife alive. And when she is not doing something as macabre as this she is bullying her bahu through relentless ragging. Further it is bewildering that in india where many women today have attained positions of eminence and responsibility there are still those who are subjected to humiliations and torture.
Why do girls submit to these opressions? Why do they not realise that a divorce is better than marriage where money is the be all and end all of all relationships. Marriage is not the ultimate end in life but happiness certainly is.
You must have read about thousands of bride burning cases like these as you go through the newspapers.There is no end to the crime against women. They are a blot on a society that claims to be progressive and unfettered by outworn traditions. Are Indian women destined to be wedded to the flames? The holy fire which witnesses the couple's first steps towards domesticity may easily turn into a vicious death trap.
Recent surveys in India have undoubtedly established the rising trend in bride buring deaths, a major form of dowry death. Although the system of giving dowry to a daughter is an age old institutions, the issue has suddenly acquired pernicious overtones in recent years. this problem of demand and supply continues to be an accepted social practice and there seems to be no end to this.
What happens to the girl when she is wedded to the 'paraya ghar'? As she steps into the house, she faces all sorts of cruel and inhuman torture and exploitation. There are those who protest and break free from this nuptial bond in sharp contrast to those who silently suffer harrassment and indignities for having brought insufficient dowry.The humiliation generally starts with criticism followed by familiar scenes- insults, abuses and demand for more money and finally she is beaten up and set on fire. today young brides and brides to be carry a vision in their minds of a daemonic women haing a kerosene tin in one hand and match box in the other hand and shrilling menacingly, ' marry without dowry and repent later' . This vision is enough to give her nightmares and nervous breakdown.
During the entire drama involving the bride and her mother in law where is the 'pati paremeshwar'? the saviour , the bread winner, the hero who had vowed to support his wife through the thick and thin of life. In some cases he is out of the scene and in some he has turned into a non-entity, hiding behind his mother's 'palu' or maybe he had risen like a beast of prey ready to thrust her into the pyre his mother has lit.
It is ironical that a country which worships women as godesses should treat her as a commodity to be consigned to the flames when she cannot fulfill the material greed of the family. It is also ironical that a women in her role as a wife and mother particularly as mother embodies all that our culture holds dear- sacrifice, endurance patience- can turn into a cold blooded scheming woman known as mother in law burning her son's wife alive. And when she is not doing something as macabre as this she is bullying her bahu through relentless ragging. Further it is bewildering that in india where many women today have attained positions of eminence and responsibility there are still those who are subjected to humiliations and torture.
Why do girls submit to these opressions? Why do they not realise that a divorce is better than marriage where money is the be all and end all of all relationships. Marriage is not the ultimate end in life but happiness certainly is.
The Rain and Me
Pearls from heaven
He showers drop by drop
from endless clouds
Awakens my senses
stirs up life's many emotions
cleanses , purifies the soul
comforts my dry spirit
fills mind with
thoughts so sublime
The rain sings
unending songs of Love
hymns to Joy, Beauty
earthy music accompanying
Envelops nature
in all its glory
the sky , the earth, the seas combine
in harmony
I sing with the rain
the black moving clouds my hair
the wet earth my embryonic bed
radiant rainbow my bridal gown
Whistling wind, green fields, dewy flowers,
chirping birds, natures tiniest creatures form chorus
rendering the soft musical
'an ode to the rain'
The rain dances
steps so beautiful, gentle, yet so firm
Like Mother's love
it pierces the Earth
And seeps in, in, inner still
forms a pool, clear, white and refreshing
I dance with the rain
to its enchanting rhythm
Till my soul become
a gleaming mirror of my life
Where visible is the invisible
Rain there is in me so much
dry towers of my heart crumble
in its long embrace
Rain like honey dew bath
Each cell of my body renews
He showers drop by drop
from endless clouds
Awakens my senses
stirs up life's many emotions
cleanses , purifies the soul
comforts my dry spirit
fills mind with
thoughts so sublime
The rain sings
unending songs of Love
hymns to Joy, Beauty
earthy music accompanying
Envelops nature
in all its glory
the sky , the earth, the seas combine
in harmony
I sing with the rain
the black moving clouds my hair
the wet earth my embryonic bed
radiant rainbow my bridal gown
Whistling wind, green fields, dewy flowers,
chirping birds, natures tiniest creatures form chorus
rendering the soft musical
'an ode to the rain'
The rain dances
steps so beautiful, gentle, yet so firm
Like Mother's love
it pierces the Earth
And seeps in, in, inner still
forms a pool, clear, white and refreshing
I dance with the rain
to its enchanting rhythm
Till my soul become
a gleaming mirror of my life
Where visible is the invisible
Rain there is in me so much
dry towers of my heart crumble
in its long embrace
Rain like honey dew bath
Each cell of my body renews
An Unbelievable Gift of Life
We waited and waited and we were still waiting. It had been a long wait. We waited with hope in our heart and faith in the almighty. We waited with anticipation and the excitement. Waited when our silent prayers will be answered and God will bless us with a baby. If not our own - that doesn't matter anymore. After years of waiting at the infertility clinics, hospitals and adoption centres, we were desperately waiting for a baby to adopt us and not the other way round. Finally we got a call and here we were at the centre waiting for him. He arrived. I could see the nurse of the adoption centre walking in holding him close to her. We held our breath. I could feel my husband's hand reaching to touch mine, yes i needed that firm grip at this wonderful moment. The nurse smiled as she handed him over to us and said 'yes he is all yours'. Those sweet little words swept me off my feet.
He was all wrapped up in this soft white linen, he was barely a month old. He was so small, delicate, he was simply beautiful. A strange new love fulfilled my senses when i held him in my arms for the first time. I could feel my heart beating faster and growing larger to treasure this new found love. The emotional sweep that takes place under these circumstances is impossible to describe. The twinkling radiance in his eyes, the purity in his smile, the smell of innocence overwhelmed me. He seemed so special. It was as if i held a piece of our heart in my hands. He stared at me through those half - opened eyes. I had held babies before, but this tiny bundle in my arms was all ours and that made all the difference. There was joy and there were tears.One minute, we were a childless couple who longed for a baby, the next minute, we became proud parents to an unbelievable gift.
When we got home our family was all eagerly waiting at our house to greet us and meet the newest member of our family. He has made our house a home, made our family complete. Parenthood is a memorable phase in life and has changed us completely. We are now reliving our childhoods days once again with him. What a difference babies make in the our lives! Now our world seems to be revolve round our little one. We can't imagine a day in our lives without him. Though the peaceful sleepy nights are now a thing of the past, a few minute snooze next to him is heaven. We love to shop for his diapers, feeding bottles, baby food, clothes, toys. We now awaken each day to bright smiles and sparkling eyes, and we cherish those sweet babbles and sounds he makes all through the day. Everyday seems new and exciting with him. We are waiting to hear his first word, see his first tooth, see him crawl and take his first step. We are waiting to teach him everything he wants to know and prepare him to face the world and lead a happy and fulfilled life. Its a long road ahead and we have taken our first step.
He was all wrapped up in this soft white linen, he was barely a month old. He was so small, delicate, he was simply beautiful. A strange new love fulfilled my senses when i held him in my arms for the first time. I could feel my heart beating faster and growing larger to treasure this new found love. The emotional sweep that takes place under these circumstances is impossible to describe. The twinkling radiance in his eyes, the purity in his smile, the smell of innocence overwhelmed me. He seemed so special. It was as if i held a piece of our heart in my hands. He stared at me through those half - opened eyes. I had held babies before, but this tiny bundle in my arms was all ours and that made all the difference. There was joy and there were tears.One minute, we were a childless couple who longed for a baby, the next minute, we became proud parents to an unbelievable gift.
When we got home our family was all eagerly waiting at our house to greet us and meet the newest member of our family. He has made our house a home, made our family complete. Parenthood is a memorable phase in life and has changed us completely. We are now reliving our childhoods days once again with him. What a difference babies make in the our lives! Now our world seems to be revolve round our little one. We can't imagine a day in our lives without him. Though the peaceful sleepy nights are now a thing of the past, a few minute snooze next to him is heaven. We love to shop for his diapers, feeding bottles, baby food, clothes, toys. We now awaken each day to bright smiles and sparkling eyes, and we cherish those sweet babbles and sounds he makes all through the day. Everyday seems new and exciting with him. We are waiting to hear his first word, see his first tooth, see him crawl and take his first step. We are waiting to teach him everything he wants to know and prepare him to face the world and lead a happy and fulfilled life. Its a long road ahead and we have taken our first step.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
