Gujrati had been married for five years when I returned to my village. Plague had spread in the city. Otherwise what pleasure does the city dweller get in the countryside? It was monsoon. Many married girls were back at the homes of their parents from the houses of their in-laws. When they received news of my arrival, all of them came to see me—Gujrati was also one of them. Her face wasn’t as lively as before. It was the last night of the month. The morning wasn’t as bright as the other days. She had a moon-like baby in her arms. I went to embrace her and took the baby in my arms and froze for a moment. He was completely blind. I asked Gujrati, ‘Did the child suffer a dreadful disease or has he been blind since birth?’
Gujrati said with tearful eyes, ‘No, sister, he had smallpox that took away his eyes. I prayed and made offerings but yet the Devi took away his eyes. His life was spared, this is enough.’
‘The poor fellow’s life has been ruined.’
‘It was God’s wish, what could anyone do?’
‘Is his father working at the same station?’
Tears fell from Gujrati’s swollen eyes. She said, ‘God has called him. It has been a year. He was still serving water to one of the passengers when the train started. The passenger was taking out money from his pocket. He bent down to take the money when the train picked up speed. I don’t know how he fell down. He was crushed on the tracks. Seeing his face was also not in my fate. Since then I’ve come here. I labour and work hard and somehow spend my days. May my child live with your blessings! I don’t want anything else. I’ve been brought up here and will die here.’
The following day was Naag Panchami.1 Girls of all ages from the village decked themselves up and headed towards the fair with their pots. The fair was held beside a lake. The naag was worshipped there. He was offered rice and milk. Gujrati was also happy in the festive ambience. Her lyrical voice drew people to her. She continued to do good work even though her mind was burdened with sorrow.
I stayed in my village till the monsoons. Women gathered to sing every other day. Swang and mimicry were held. Gujrati was the life and soul of these events. I never saw her cursing her fate or destiny. Life is a gift. Her life was a living example of this fact.
After this I didn’t get the opportunity to visit my village for a long time. Plague broke out every year but now we had become used to it.
Ten years passed by. One day Gujrati sent me an invitation through a barber. I read the invitation and accepted it unhesitatingly. Gujrati had built a new house of her own. The house-warming ceremony was being organized with great pomp. Gujrati implored me to come saying that if I didn’t she’d be sad and wouldn’t ever show her face to me. I was wondering what had led her to build a new house. It was difficult for her to afford two square meals a day. Why did she build this house? I reached my village on the appointed day. Gujrati was extremely happy like a blind person whose sight has been restored. She fell at my feet and said that she was sure that I would definitely come: ‘My heart said that you haven’t forgotten me.’ She took me to her new house which was made of mud but had a well-paved floor. There was a large courtyard at the doorway. There was a cemented well on one end and adjacent to that was a Shiva temple. The inner courtyard was also wide, there were verandas on four sides, the rooms were well ventilated and a sweet smell emanated from the newly plastered mud walls. Though the sun was strong outside, it was quite cool inside the room.
I said, ‘Such a building won’t be found in the entire village. I’m so happy to see it.’
Gujrati replied gracefully, ‘It happened because of the strength of your prayers. I had only one desire and that has been fulfilled. For the past eight years I’ve been working tirelessly. I ground four kilos of wheat every night. I laboured the whole day. I sewed clothes for the entire village. And to tell the truth, if it hadn’t been for the kindness of the villagers, I don’t know what would have happened to me. Someone gave wood, some gave bamboo and the house was ready. The boy that I gave birth to has to be provided with a livelihood. Had he not been blind, I wouldn’t have been so worried; he would have worked and earned his bread. But since God took away his eyes, it’s my responsibility to provide him with a place to live. Or else who will take
