The school was closed the next day.4
The day of Teej arrived. Women began preparing for the festival by cleaning their houses. Jogeshwari, too, started getting ready for the fast. New saris were ordered. On this occasion, clothes, sweets and toys would come from Kailash Kumari’s in-laws’ place. This year also they came. This was a fast meant for married women but widows observed it as well. Their relationship with their husbands was not merely physical but also spiritual. Kailash Kumari used to observe the fast, but this time she decided that she would not do it. When her mother heard this she struck her own forehead and said, ‘It’s your duty to observe this fast.’
Kailash Kumari: ‘Do men observe any such fast for their wives?’
Jogeshwari: ‘Men have no such obligation.’
Kailash Kumari: ‘Isn’t it because men aren’t as concerned about their wives?’
Jogeshwari: ‘How can a woman equate herself with a man? Her duty is to serve her husband.’
Kailash Kumari: ‘I don’t consider it my duty. Self-improvement in my view is one’s only duty.’
Jogeshwari: ‘Daughter, this is terrible. What will the world say?’
Kailashi: ‘Again the same society! I have nothing to do with the world. I am not afraid of this world, which has nothing to offer me except hardships.’
When Jogeshwari related this to Hridaynath he was speechless. What did all this mean? Was this really the urge for self-improvement or the cry of a wounded heart? Poverty leaves no scope for shame. Usually despair and grief take the form of helplessness. In self-respecting people it assumes the form of a rash arrogance which destroys softer emotions. This is the ultimate form of despair.
‘What should we do now?’ Jogeshwari asked.
‘What can I say? There’s only one way out but I can’t bear to voice it.’
Translated from the Urdu by Shaifta Ayoub
A Home for an Orphan1
Lala Devaprakash spent a large amount of money on the celebrations when Satyaprakash was born. The ceremony for the boy’s initiation into learning was also conducted with a lot of pomp. A small cart was acquired to take him on rounds. In the evening, a servant would take him for a stroll. Another servant would bring him to school, wait there the entire day and then return home with him. What an affable and promising boy he was! Fair skin, big eyes, high forehead, thin red lips and plump legs! One spontaneously exclaimed while looking at him, ‘May God bless him! He will grow to be a great man!’ People marvelled at the strength of his body and the sharpness of his mind. A smile was always spread on his face, which was as fair as the moon. Nobody had ever seen him crying or throwing a tantrum.
It was a day in the rainy season. Devaprakash went for a dip in the Ganga with his wife. The river was flooded like the eyes of an orphan. His wife, Nirmala, started playing in the water. She would go back and forth into the river, dive, or spray the water around with her fingers. Devaprakash said, ‘All right, now come out or you’ll catch a cold.’
She said daringly, ‘Tell me, should I go into the water up to my chest?’
‘And what if you slip?’
‘Why will I slip?’
Having said that, she went deeper into the water, until it was up to her chest. The husband cautioned, ‘All right, now don’t go even a step further.’ But Nirmala was flirting with Death. It was not a water game any more, now it was a Death stunt. She went one step further and slipped. A cry escaped her lips and her hands flailed in an expectation of support and then disappeared into the water. It took the thirsty river just one moment to swallow her. Devaprakash was patting himself dry with a towel. He dived into the river at once, and the palanquin bearer followed. Two boatmen also leapt in. Everyone searched but Nirmala was nowhere to be found, after which more boats were called for. But even with the additional assistance of the boatmen who dived repeatedly into the river, her body remained untraceable. Devaprakash returned home grief-stricken. Satyaprakash ran to him expecting presents. The father picked him up and, despite his best efforts, was unable to stop his sobs. Satyaprakash inquired, ‘Where’s my mother?’
‘Son, the Ganga has claimed your mother for a feast.’
Satyaprakash looked at him questioningly and then, understanding the implication, started crying and calling out for his mother.2
A motherless boy is the world’s most pitiable creature. Even the lowliest of beings have God’s blessings to console their hearts. A motherless boy is denied this consolation. The mother is the sole foundation of his life. Without the mother, he turns into a wingless bird.
Satyaprakash now started loving solitude. He would sit alone for hours. In the company of trees, he got a strange feeling of empathy, which he did not receive even from his family. When the mother was there, everyone loved him; without the mother’s love, everyone turned cold. Even the father’s eyes lost the light of love. Who gives alms to the poor, anyway?
Six months went by. Suddenly one day he came to know that he was soon going to have a new mother. He ran to his father and asked, ‘Will a new mother come for me?’
The father replied, ‘Yes, son, she’ll love you a lot.’
‘Will my mother herself return from heaven?’
‘Yes, it will seem just like that.’
‘Will she love me the same as before?’
How could Devaprakash answer that? But from that day, Satyaprakash’s heart beamed with joy. ‘My mother is coming! She will put me in her lap and love me! I will never tease her, never throw a tantrum, and will tell her nice stories!’
As the wedding day drew near, the preparations for the event commenced.
