It’s been three days since I have become a widow. At least that is what people say. People can say what they like, it is not going to change what I think of myself. I did not break my bangles. Why should I? I never used to fill my maang with sindoor, even now I don’t. The last rites of the old man were performed by his son. I stayed away. At home people pass all kinds of remarks, looking at my braided hair some turn up their noses, and seeing my ornaments, some smirk, but who cares? Just to tease them I wear colourful saris, I adorn myself, and I do not feel even the slightest bit sad. I have been liberated from the prison. Now I visit Sushila’s house often. A small house, no decoration, no furniture, not even a single bed and yet Sushila is so happy. Looking at the radiance that surrounds her, all kinds of desires begin to surface in me as well. Why should I call them base when my mind does not consider them to be base? There is so much enthusiasm in their life. Her eyes are constantly smiling, a sweet smile spreads on her lips and her voice seems to be dipped in sweetness. With this joy, no matter how momentary it may be, life becomes meaningful, and then no one can erase this experience. One can live one’s entire life with its memory.
One day I asked Sushila, ‘If your husband were to go away to some distant land wouldn’t you die of grief?’ Very seriously, Sushila replied, ‘No, sister, I will not die, his memory will always keep alive the radiance in me, even if he remains in that distant land for years together.’
I too seek such love, my mind longs for this pain of love. I too want this very memory, which can make the strings of my heart vibrate, whose intoxication will forever engulf and surround me.7
Night passed and tears changed into convulsive sobs. I do not know why my heart was filled with so much agony. My life seemed to stretch before me like a huge barren land, where there were only thorny bushes and no green pastures. The silence of the house haunts me; my mind is so restless that I want to fly away somewhere. These days I do not even feel like reading devotional scriptures. Nor do I feel like going out for a walk; I am unaware of what I even want. But what I do not know every pore and fibre of my being knows. I am the most animated, pulsating embodiment of my emotions. Every single part of my body is an expression of my innermost pain and anguish.
The restlessness of my mind has reached the outermost state, where a person is neither ashamed of slander nor afraid of it. Those greedy, selfish parents who pushed me into this well, that stone-hearted man who enacted the role of putting sindoor in my maang—evil and wicked curses surface again and again towards them from the depth of my heart. I want to put them to shame. By disgracing myself I want to disgrace them. I want to kill myself in order to get them punished for killing me. My tender femininity has receded into the background and in its place a raging flame is burning.
Everyone at home was sleeping. I went downstairs stealthily, opened the door and stepped out of the house, like a person who is absolutely agitated because of extreme heat and rushes out of the house and runs towards an open space. I was feeling suffocated in the house.
There was dead silence on the road—the shops had closed. Suddenly I saw an old woman approaching me. What if she is a witch, I thought. The old woman looked me up and down and said, ‘Who are you waiting for?’
‘For death,’ I answered in vexation.
‘Destiny has great bliss in store for you. The dark night has passed; in the sky one can see the light of the dawn breaking.’
I laughed and answered, ‘Is your sight so sharp that even in such darkness you can read the lines of destiny?’
The old woman replied, ‘I do not read with my eyes, but with the power of my mind. This hair of mine—it has not grown grey in sun. Your bad days are past and your good days are approaching. Do not laugh, daughter, my life has passed doing only this work. It is because of this old woman that the girl who was going to drown herself in the river is now sleeping on a bed of flowers; the one who was about to drink poison is now rinsing her mouth with milk. For this very reason I walk the nights, to seek and help any unfortunate woman. I do not ask anyone for anything. By the grace of God I have everything. My only desire is that I should be able to help as much as I can. Those who desire wealth should get wealth, those who desire a child should have one, that’s all. What else should I say?
