‘No, it is the same thing. When it is a relationship of feelings, then arguments and logic do not work. In fact, if someone were to even tell you that the sweeper has touched your drinking water you would feel ill while trying to drink it. Think—am I being just with you or unjust?’
‘I would not have eaten food that was touched by you. I would have stayed in a separate room, but I couldn’t have asked you to leave our home. You are taunting me because you are the lord of the house and you think that you are providing for me.’
‘That is not it. I have not fallen so low.’
‘So, is this your final decision?’
‘Yes, final.’
‘Do you know what the result of this will be?’
‘I know and know not.’
‘Will you let me take Basudev?’
‘Basudev is my son.’
‘Will you let me caress him just once?’
‘No, I would not want that, but if you wish, you can look upon him from afar.’
‘Then forget it, I’ll not look at him. I’ll tell myself that I am a widow as well as barren. Let’s go, my heart. Now this house can no longer care for you. Let us go wherever fate leads us!’
Translated from the Hindi by Chandana Dutta
Despair1
Some men get annoyed with their wives because they bear only daughters and not sons. They are aware that the woman is not at fault in producing daughters and if at all she is, then only as much as them. Yet, every now and again, they behave sullenly, pronounce her ill-fated and persistently wound her sensibilities. Nirupama was one such unfortunate woman and Ghamandilal Tripathi was one such cruel man. Nirupama had borne him three daughters one after the other, so she had fallen in the estimation of all the members of the family. She was not particularly worried about the disappointment of her parents-in-law, because they had a dated outlook, and believed that girls were burdensome or that their births were due to sins committed in previous lifetimes. But yes, she was saddened by her husband’s dissatisfaction, who, despite being an educated man, constantly passed acrimonious personal remarks. He seldom expressed any love for the children. He never had a kind word for her, stayed away from home for days together and if he did come back, it was with such a disdainful demeanour that Nirupama shuddered at the thought of him losing his temper any moment. There was no dearth of riches in the household but Nirupama could never summon up the courage to express a desire to acquire even a commonplace article. She believed that she was indeed unfortunate, otherwise why would God cause only daughters to be formed inside her womb? She longed for her husband to smile at her pleasantly or to say something sweet, but that was not to be. So eager was she to please him that she also became cautious about displaying her affection for her daughters—for fear that people would accuse her of arrogance despite having possession of, as the saying goes, merely a brass nose ring. When it was time for Tripathiji to come home, she would remove their daughters from his sight under some pretext or the other. The biggest problem was that Tripathiji had threatened to leave the house and go away if yet another daughter was born—he would not reside in such a hellish house for another instant. This threat had been very disquieting for Nirupama.
She observed the Tuesday fast, went waterless on Sunday, observed the Ekadashi fast and who knows how many more? The bath followed by the puja was a daily routine but the performance of neither rite nor practice seemed to grant her heart’s desire. Owing to the constant indifference, censure, contempt and insults heaped upon her, she had begun to lose interest in worldly matters. How could she not tire of her life in a house within which her ears longed to hear a sweet word, her eyes to behold a countenance full of love and her heart yearned to be folded in a warm embrace?
One day in a state of extreme hopelessness, she wrote to her elder brother’s wife. Every word was steeped in agonizing torment. Her sister-in-law replied: ‘Your brother will soon come and take you away. These days a truly great mahatma is visiting; it is believed that his benediction is never given in vain. Several childless women have been blessed with sons after receiving his blessings. I have faith that you too will be blessed with a son after receiving his benediction.’
Nirupama showed the letter to her husband.
Tripathiji replied gloomily, ‘It is not possible for mahatmas to decide the gender of the child, only God can do that.’
Nirupama: ‘True, but mahatmas too are capable of some miracles.’
‘Yes, they are, but visiting such mahatmas will not yield any benefit.’
‘I will go and pay my respects to this mahatma.’
‘You may go.’
‘If barren women could be blessed with sons, am I worse off than them?’
‘I have given you permission to go. So you may see for yourself. As for me, I feel that we are not destined to behold the countenance of a son.’2
Several days later, Nirupama went to her paternal home, accompanied by her brother. Her three daughters went with her. Her sister-in-law welcomed her with a warm embrace and said, ‘The men in your family are very shallow. Despite having such pretty young girls, they weep over their destiny. If you find it difficult to look after them, you may give them to me.’
Having had their meal, Nirupama and her sister-in-law went in to rest.
Nirupama asked, ‘Where does the mahatma live?’
‘Why are you in such a hurry? I will let you know.’
‘He lives close by, doesn’t he?’
‘Very close indeed. I will send for him whenever you wish.’
‘Is he very pleased with all of you?’
‘He has both his meals here. He lives here.’
‘How can you die if the vaid lives in the house? Let
