The Sissy

 I heard the voices using abusive language; a door banged, some one groaned. I bolted all the windows but the sound would not cease. The strong scent of incense engulfed me... Beads of perspiration appeared on my forehead, my heart thumping loud inside me, I opened the door and tiptoed out into the passage halting at grandpa's room. Listening to the sound of deep rhythmic breathing calmed my nerves somewhat... I stood a few seconds before Sumi's closed door. My lovely little sister. I tried to keep from getting scared, tried to get my thoughts off some place else, tried to think about days when Sumi would lie beside me whimpering softly, afraid of offending father. I would stroke her curly hair softly, telling stories, trying to put her back to sleep. Those were the days when father would come late, dragging his unsteady feet, smelling heavily of alcohol. He would beat mother, would use filthy language forcing her to his room. I wished I was strong and big and could drive that man out of our life. But I would fall asleep with Sumi on my side, her small frame curled beside me, stains of tear visible on her chubby cheeks.
The day it happened I was at school and was sent home early. I saw gathering of a small crowd before our house. I ran up the stairs and looked for mother but she was nowhere to be seen. I saw Grandpa sitting in a sofa with his face hidden between his hands. "Where is mother?", I cried but no body replied. Grandpa looked up and made me sit by his side. "Your mother is no more" he said gently. Later I learnt that there was a terrible fight between the two, when father declared he was going to leave us and marry Ritu auntie and stormed out of the house. After he left mother went into her room and closed the door from inside. She hanged herself.
We went to the crematorium. I performed her last rites, they said, it is a son's duly. I was twelve... I saw serious looking people talking in hushed voices, scattered all over the place. Then we went up some stairs and saw a kind of platform where three or four bodies were laid in a row of makeshift bamboo stretchers. One of them was my mother. I was suffocated by the scent of heavy incense burning at her side. Extreme terror seized me, my limbs started trembling and all I wanted was to flee from the ghastly place but I had to stay on. The rituals that followed left me weak and exhausted. Every time I touched mother with those burning sticks, I fancied mother flinched, then they pushed her body behind iron doors, into burning flames... I wanted to put my face into mother's bosom and cry but mother was no more. I could not eat or sleep for days and months. Memories of crematorium haunting me. We were shifted to grandpa's house, me and Sumi and we were admitted to new schools, every thing changing about me all on a sudden.
Sumi was developing into a lovely young girl. At times, she would appear a stranger too. "Sumi, my little sister, please do not grow up. I will tell you stories, I would sing lullaby's and put you to sleep, we would play hide and seek, like in the past" I would cry silently. But she was growing up fast. The boys at the street corner would make comments after her, whistling while she passed by and I would feel like throttling them. The punks, the rascals, I would fume inside but I did not have enough courage, afraid they would batter my skinny body to the ground and I would look the other way, sense of hopelessness and frustration making me all the more miserable. I could feel the eyes of the punks piercing my back, sniggering at me. At night the voices would come and keep me awake sleep eluding me. I was loosing appetite feeling tired all the time. I was going down on all fronts. My progress at school hit the bottom. I could not concentrate on anything. Grandpa never reproached me but I knew he too was tired of me. My teachers in school made me feel like a heel and lowly fellow, a good for nothing. They need not try so hard though, 'cause that was exactly what I thought of myself. I was thrown in a dark and miserable world with no one to turn to for help.
But no, there was Chanchal, a local youth I had become friendly with recently. He was a very tough guy, a little rough though and he drinks a lot but the local punks treated him with respect... I liked him Chanchal by my side I could even look at the rascals straight in the eyes, which was a very rare thing that I could do these days. I hid my eyes, the best way to prevent people from guessing what is going in your mind.
I was waiting at the bus stop on my way back from school, when the familiar a face peeped out of the front window of a white Maruti. "Hallow Suman, how are you? Returning from school, I see! And how is your sister and grandpa boy? Come in, I will drop you home" he opened the door and to my horror I found myself sliding into the seat beside him, answering the questions obediently. Father talked to me a lot, asking in detail about me and Sumi. I could not hit back at him, nor could I feel any hatred towards my tormentor. On the contrary, I felt secured by his side in a vague sort of way. I even wished he would come back to us. He dropped me at the corner and drove away and I returned home devastated and hating myself even more. Why should I always be a failure? How could I stoop so low, how could I be such a weakling, letting him use such patronizing tone. That night I was kept awake by all kind of voices condemning me, shame, shame they were saying. I sat crouched in a corner with my back to the wall. I had started feeling my body at places at regular interval to make sure that I was a man. I had a nagging fear at the back of mind that I was going through a sex change and soon turn into a female body. I expressed my fear to some of my friends but the fools either laughed like they were going made or gave me suspicious looks, as if I was speaking through my hat, cracking nasty jokes. My lower abdomen was aching but I dare not open the door, instead I relieved myself in a corner of the room and moped off the mess with an old shirt...
Today, Bishu came. I despise him, a snoopy sort of fellow. He put his nose too close to my ear for my comfort and whispered "Do you know your sister is going out with boys. She is particularly friendly with Chanchal. I saw them coming out of the park after dark...
I waited for Sumi anger boiling inside. So she is going to the parks with Chanchal. How dare they, betraying my trust... . She was coming up the stairs, two at a time when I blocked her way her shoulder length curly black hair surrounding her angelic face, looking as fresh as a flower. "is it true, you are going around with Chanchal?" I demanded. Sumi looked at me with those wonderfully innocent eyes and said defiantly "Yes, so what?' her defiant attitude dampened my spirit somewhat "Don't associate with Chanchal. He is a bad guy" I tried to sound authoritative. Sumi laughed at me with sarcasm "Really! And who are you to tell me that. Look at yourself... You are a spineless creature looking the other way when nasty people comment and whistle at your sister in the street. Chanchal has guts, he can protect me. Don't try to act big brother with me, you Sissy" she screamed at me.
I felt the weakness coming back to my legs. I could feel my face drained of colour, then I felt a sudden rush of blood. I fled to my room like a shooed canine with its tail between its legs. My throat felt dry. There was a terrible pain in my chest. I could not bear it any longer. "My Sumi, my own little sister. I have told you not to grow up. Why did you grow up. You are not my Sumi. You are some one else. How could you be so cruel?"
The night was lonely, everybody slept but me. I came back to my room, bolted the door from inside and brought out the carefully made noose with grandpa's dhoti from under the mattress. I looked at the ceiling fan. It was too high. I could not reach the fan. I took a stool and I tied one corner f the dhoti with the fan and put the noose around my neck and kicked the stool from beneath my feet.

Murmu

The fall from grace

Murmu & mama

Mama was standing before the mirror outlining her beautiful lips with lip liner and then she would put on lipstick. She will take out one of her beautiful earrings and put them on her small ears.. She has combed her short hair into a ponytail and as always, looking ravishing. Murmu thought mama was the best thing on earth, she watched mama’s every move intently as if mesmerized, longing for her warm and affectionate hug waiting patiently in her convertible wheel chair. Mama is looking at her wristwatch with a slight frown. Papa is late again. Little Binu started wailing from his cot and mama got angrier- “Ayah, where are you. The baby is crying.”. The fat woman running like a frog bumped into Papa standing at the door with the car keys dangling from his fingers. Papa went near the baby’s cot and started throwing baby up & down and the baby giggled

Ayah, we will be late tonight. Look after the baby and Murmu? Mama came near and touched Murmu with her soft hands. Murmu could smell her. She tried to smile and reach out. They say Murmu have no expression and do not comprehend anything. How wrong they are as always Murmu cried “mama please doesn’t go. Please don’t leave me. I feel lost without you” Mama looked at Murmu with concern.

Murmu looked at the sky from the window. It is almost lunch time and very cold outside; she shivered. The ayah was looking at Murmu with mean eyes. She hated the disabled child. She came to bed and pulled the cover with a jerk and with disgust written all over she cleaned her. Then deliberately she kept the cover away from reach. Murmu dragged herself to pull the cover with her left hand, the only one that works. She can move her left leg also, but with one leg she cannot walk. Her right arm and leg are thinner and so weak that she could hardly move them.

Mama feeds Murmu breakfast herself and she feeds her so much, generally Murmu does not feel hungry at lunch time;. She picked up her lunch plate from beside bed table and threw it at the ayah, making her shouting abuses. Murmu felt sleepy. The baby is crying. The ayah forgot about Murmu and became busy with the baby. Murmu thought of mama and saw her standing beside Murmu smiling down, looking like a fairy .Murmu slept. There was a jerk, the wheel chair shook and looking up Murmu found Ayah looking down with malice in her eyes, Murmu shrank in her bed feeling wet. She shut her eyes tight and hoped the horrid woman would go away. When Murmu opened eyes again nobody was in sight. She looked out of the window. The sky was no more white. It is now blue, pink and red, the sun was going down.

Murmu looked at baby. Mama’s red wool ball was lying on the ground and baby was bending on the side of the cot, trying to reach it. Sensing danger Murmu instinctively jumped from her chair and fell on the floor. She .crawled inch by inch and grabbed the bed sheet trying hard to haul herself up to baby’s bed but her hand slipped and she fell face down with the bed cover still in her hand, they baby fell on top

“Oh, my, what a little devil you are. You want to kill kid brother. I will tell your papa and see how he treats you”- picking up the baby in one hand Ayah came and pulled Murmu by the hair . Murmu shook herself free , biting into the hand that tried to hurt with all her might. Ayah’s eyes became round and she shrieked, leaving the room with baby in her arm, switching off the lights and locking the door from outside. Murmu started crying, she banged on the door for a long time, then she dragged herself to every corner of the room and pulled , tore and broke every thing that she could lay her hand on

She felt anger and frustration boiling inside making her cry loud- “oh mama, please help me. I want to talk and walk and do things like everybody..” Murmu was still on the floor crying for mama, when they came and stood over her. Papa, anger written large over his face, thundered, “ See what a beastly creature you have begotten. What to do with her? Keep her in a separate room I say. She will kill baby one day I tell you.” Murmu looked at papa with hatred in her heart and shouted, “you go away”. Fortunately for her, papa did not comprehend. Mama stood there her head bowed down, she looked so sad – you know we don’t have any other room & it is not her fault – I had measles when I was carrying. “ “ No more is it my fault. I don’t want to hear any nonsense and remove this creature from my presence.” Papa walked out of the room.. Mama knelt beside Murmu and helped her get up. Murmu clutched mama and started crying out loud- “mama I did not want to hurt baby. True mama, I only wanted to protect mama. “- But all she could do was make some noises. Mama patted her head and put her to bed. The Doctor was called- he gave Murmu some milk and some medicine- Murmu went to sleep with mama holding her hand.

Murmu

Mama & papa are talking of going some place – all of us, some place, far off in some country named CANADA. It is a very cold country, they say. They were making lists of things to buy and were so excited about it all. In between their talk mama would come to me and caress me, calling me sweet names. These days she loves me more than baby. Mama does not go out to office and stays home all day. She plays with me. She has bought some very bright dresses for me but she is packing them all for the journey..

I sat close to mama, clinging on to her arm. I am so happy, we are going for a ride, mama, papa & myself. I sat with mama in the back. Mama made me wear one of the new dresses she bought for me.. We left baby behind with ayah and he made such a noises. I looked at mama and asked why are we leaving baby behind ? mama did not say anything. Instead she looked at me and tears flew from her eyes. Mama is crying- “why mama, please don’t cry. I can’t see you crying. Let us go back and bring baby.” I said. But I mama only embraced me closer. I wiped her tears with my palm. We traveled a for a long time & I loved every bit of the journey as I was sitting so close to mama. At last papa halted and came out of his car seat. Papa carried me to the wheel chair and mama strode by my side. We stopped before a gate covered by tin sheet it seemed to me, noting cloud be seen beyond. Papa knocked and a face peeped out of a small hole. Behind the gate there was a strange house almost like a three storied yellow match box with green borders , We kept going, until we came to the bottom of the stairs. I did not like the place. A woman came down the stairs. She was wearing a white frock and a white cap on her head. She looked at me and I froze. This must be the ayah in disguise. Mama & papa can’t recognize her, but I could,. She is a witch, mama does not know. She has changed her looks, she seems younger and thinner. What is she doing here and how come she came here and changed her dress even before us and where is the baby? Has she eaten him ? Papa put down the luggage and said to mama he will be right back from the office room after arranging all formalities. So this is papa’s office. I felt so confused. Mama and I went together to a big room, the ayah in disguise came with us.. I looked at mama “ she is a witch, mama, she is ayah.” I pointed at the woman.. Mama took my hand in hers and said in a very gentle voice ‘ darling you are not well. You have been naughty and your papa is very angry with you. I have told you not to go near the baby- but no you will not listen. Stay here for some time. These people are nice; they will treat you well. There will be children, with whom you can play. I will come and see you often- until you are well and good. Then I will take you home.” She kissed me and she stood up. She is walking back to the garden to papa, to baby, leaving me behind. She is lying. She will never come back- they are going to some far off place called CANADA. Why are they leaving me behind? I heard the noise of thousand airplanes flying around me. Is some body switching off the lights,? It is becoming so dark. I feel as if a heavy drum is beating inside me. I tried to scream – mama, mama, mama, mama, come back. I wont be naughty again. I promise. Please don’t leave me “- but no sound came . Mama is looking back at me ; two white dressed women guided her out of the room. I saw the door close behind her.


Little Murmu never knew what was her fault- what wrong had she done to call so much wrath from her father. She did not know but, we know, we the people who matters, we the parents, brothers and relatives of such unfortunate kids. Murmu was a girl child with undeveloped brain. If only God made her a boy child, she might not have been abandoned in such a way. If only her mother could have the courage to defend her unfortunate child…if only…..

The outsider

Malati came out of the Doctor's chamber, her heart pounding with joy. Five years of their marriage were barren in the true sense of the word. It was an arranged marriage and Malati could never accept Biman. They were seas apart in character. There was no bondage of love between them at least not from Malati's side. After the third year Malati went to see the Doctor but the doctor found nothing wrong with her. Her proposal that Biman should go for a check up was phew phewed by him.
"What if the doctor says that I am infertile? Would you divorce me? If your answer is yes, I am ready to go for a check up. Otherwise there is no point Malati.Every month she would wait for a certain date hoping for the sign and every time she cried broken hearted.
Biman was busy with his laptop as usual when Malati came and sat by his side. Malati sat quietly studying his profile; a blunt nose, thick and deep brown lips darkened by heavy smoking, thick and bushy eyebrows and a head full of coarse and curly jet black hair. Malati despised the beard that he has grown to cover his receding chin ."I have been to the doctor today Biman. I missed my periods this month.Bimal turned towards her , gaping . His unusually bright and deep set eyes gleaming behind the spectacles.
"You did what.!! Tell me again is it true. Oh Malati,my darling I am so happy. Biman jumped like a child and collected Malati in his arms.
Malati removed herself from his clutches and looked at him with hidden scorn for a long while. Biman was unable to fathom what was going on in her mind as her eyes reflected no emotion. What a woman ' so beautiful, so desirable yet so cold. Biman felt for the umpteenth time.
Biman changed his routine. He became so attentive to all the little things that might affect Malati that it amused her. And the day she was born- the joy that Biman experienced was so obvious. He looked so radiant, almost handsome. What a fool. He thinks he is the father. Never suspecting that she could be unfaithful. But Malati would never forget the night at the beach .
It was a whirlwind affair between RD and Malati, both students of the Art College. That too after her marriage to Biman. It was their last year in college and there was an art convention at Puri that the students attended. It was a night that the two of them stole from the rest of the group.
She is a dreamer. She floats in her dream like a fish in the deep sea. It was a starry night, clear and dark hanging over a dark sea. The waves came bouncing on the shore, a very rough sea. A mystic night, far far away from the mundane world; far away from Biman. He had shattered all romantic dreams that Malati nurtured so lovingly for so many years. Malati stroke lightly the scar on RD's right arm. RD was playing with Malati's hair, long , straight and silky.
"Malati, my Malati- he whispered.
Malati looked up into RDs eyes full of passion desire and love, RD missed a heart beat."Don't look at me thus- I loose all my self control. "
RD spoke in a contrite voice. He missed his canvas, colours and brush. He wanted to catch her in this mood for ever in his drawing.
"But RD I am real and your canvas will only be a shadow.
Malati whispered. RD was startled. Can she read his thought? Again Malati smiled and drew him near.
"Yes I can read your mind. Let's forget everything. Lets enjoy the night; lets go into oblivion- you, me and the sea.
"But Malati, he took her hand in his hands and said, "we cannot keep this going. Think of your husband. I have still not settled in life. I have to go a long way and I am committed to my profession .We will go down the drain Malati- do you really want that. " RD sounded panicked.
"You don't have to think about me and my family. We will not go down the drain RD. Never utter such words. We love each other, like the ocean and the beach, like moonlight and the sky, like the golden sun and the morning that it brings with it. Our love is clear and pure RD. Keep it in your mind and I promise I will never call you again. The art convention will end tomorrow .Let us not waste this night. Let us be one tonight. "¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦A bell was ringing somewhere. Malati came back to the present with a jerk. Jhumpa has come back from school. It is almost 5 in the afternoon. Jhumpa ran past her into Biman's room like a storm, her blue and white school dress fluttering. Papa, papa¦¦¦¦.. She has gone after her mother, the same eyes, same nose and the same heart shaped face. A fair and pretty girl of 12. The joy of the house. But even at this young age she is much more attached to the computer as to her father. Papa's girl, Malati sniggered mentally. What a fool
What an utter fool . Many a time Malati felt like wiping the smug look from his face, but for the sake of her daughter she kept the secret to herself.
"Jhumpa ! go and change your clothes. Take off your shoes and wash your hands and face. You are spoiling the bed.
Malati stood at the door glaring at the duo.
"Why should it bother you ? It is not your bed and papa is happy if I spoil it. Are you not papa?The girl tugged at his shirtsleeves. Malati felt like she has been slapped. Although it is nothing new still it hurts. Malati watched helplessly.
At the dinner table Malati was unusually quiet while father and daughter went on chatting."Stop it, will you, I have a bad headache.
Father and daughter exchanged glances and it did not escape Malati's attention.
What an intolerable situation. Why should her own child go against her? Malati has seen hatred in her daughter' eyes. Malati could not remember when the situation started going out of hand. Malati has always been stern with her but never failed in any of her duties. She has always been particular about all her needs. She considered herself to be a perfect mother. Jhumpa was always close to her father papa. But that she dislikes her was not so apparent earlier and she would not go out of her way to show that she prefers Biman to Malati. The day Malati proposed that Jhumpa be admitted to a drawing class , Jhumpa flared up. "Why do you try to impose your decisions on me! You may like fine arts but I don't. I would rather be a computer wizards like dad. Jhumpa had jumped into his bed.
"You want to be like what ! Your papa! Malati laughed hysterically.
"And what is so funny about it?
That day Malati almost came out with the truth. It was with inhuman control that she put up with the deliberate disobedience shown by her own daughter. But she decided that one day she is definitely going to shatter their world of fantasy. How insolent her child has become. As if she does not know, who is indulging her? Have patience Malati, have patience. She tried to console her very own injured soul.
A small news item in the paper caught her eyes. Bijan Dutta, the famous painter and his wife Sefali adopted a girl child from Mother Teresa. True to their promise they never met after that night although Malati somehow managed to keep herself abreast with his news. She knew that RD married Sefali, one of his students from the arts college. She had a tremendous urge to go and see her but had to restrain herself. That was five years ago. After his marriage Malati stopped collecting news about him but this is interesting. Why should he go for adoption? On an impulse she looked in the directory for his number. More than 12 years has passed.
'Hallo who is there¦the voice sounded impatient.
'Hallo, may I speak to Mr Bijon Dutta, please?'
'Speaking.'' RD, It's me, Malati'. For almost 20 seconds there was no sound and then "Yes Malati , what is it
"RD I would like to meet you. It is very urgent. Please don't say no.
"Okay Malati. 7 in the evening . Same place. Wait for me if I am late.¦¦."Are you happy RD ?
"More so Malati.
"Why did you go for adoption?
"But, that is very personal Malati?
"Sorry I did not want to hurt you. What would you give me if I tell you that you have a daughter of your own?
"I ¦ What¦. Are you mad?
"Why? Have you forgotten the night on the beach?
"No. But I wish I had.
"Don't be rude RD
"Okay, okay. What has that got to do with my having a daughter.
"The next month I got pregnant.
"You have also been sleeping with Biman, Malati
"Stop being an idiot. I was sleeping with Biman for 5 years before that without any result.
"That does not prove anything.
"But I know RD. She is the fruit of our love. For these 12 long years I have seen your daughter blossoming before my eyes like a flower and drifting away from me . She has grown more attached to Biman than to me. Can you imagine RD, my daughter, my own flesh and blood! Who is Biman. He is not even her father. Do you realize the pain I am going through.
"I understand. But it is quite natural; daughters tend to be more attached to their father.
"He is not her father RD.
"Please stop living in a fool's paradise. And stop spoiling your own life. There is still time Malati. Life is not a dream. Go back to Biman. Go back to your home.
"But I can't help hating him. He is so crude, so unromantic, so ordinary.
"In that case you should have gone for a divorce.
"How could I, I was with child, your child RD. You were not prepared for marriage. So I had to stay married to Biman. My child needed a father.
"And Biman is the father of your child. Wait, wait, and listen carefully. You asked me why we went for adoption? It is because I am infertile. Yes Malati, we have visited doctors all over the country. Nothing is wrong with Sefali. The fault lies with me. Sefali is so understanding, poor soul, so loving, so gracious. I love my wife, and I do not want anything to come between us and that includes you. Please do not try to contact me in future.
I am infertile.. infertile. .infertile , love my wife, love my wife, my wife, my wife, do not try to contact me ¦contact me, contact me¦¦.the words echoed all round her, far an near, inside and outside.

What an incredible situation to be in. Who could she turn to now? She felt like a fallen leaf after a storm that cannot go back to the tree.Malati felt as if a heavy stone was lying in her bosom for 12 long years which has been lifted all on a sudden. She felt light and free like the breeze. So she is Biman's child! Let them be. Malati does not belong to that house..Malati heard the sound of waves- the deep sea was calling her again.

Home Theatre

The Court jester

It was not a play, it was life.
The actors did not know.
I was laughing, I was crying,
I was making all the show.
Hope lingering in my heart
Perhaps it was not the end of the day, it could not be
The end of the show.Silently and softly
The moon appeared from behind the clouds
And I was shown the door.
Only the joker in me smiled
Calling me ‘Lets go’.

Home Theatre

Mr Basu watched his daughter scanning through the channels in rapid succession, a defiant expression hovering on her pretty face making it apparent that she was doing it on purpose. It was a Sunday and Mr Basu was deeply engrossed in the newspaper. He was particularly interested about what the editorial has to say about the outcome of the General Elections when he heard her sister Sheela say –“stop it Rubina- you are getting on my nerves. What is the matter with you, why can’t you stick to one decent channel” Mr Basu was a serene man both in looks and by nature. On the other side of forty, a moderately successful man, placed as a middle rank official in a Government undertaking, he looked what he was- happy and contended with life. He had his pyajamas and a T-shirt on, both of which were so dazzlingly white that it speaks of the efficiency of the mistress of the house.

Mrs Meera Basu was seated at the divan placed at the far corner of the room busy correcting papers of students of Class X. Mrs Meera Basu taught Mathematics in a reputed girls school. She would have fitted ideally in the role of an interior decorator –cum-house manager though. Everything in the room was just proper, not a single furniture or decoration piece would seemed out of place excepting the huge Homethetre too gorgeous and too gigantic for a middleclass drawing room and the flushed and obviously petulant girl, with disheveled hair, in a pair of old faded out jeans and a T-shirt, she appeared to be a wild flower in a terrace garden.

The girl now sprang up on her feet- all of you are after me, always finding fault – papa is angry with me because I have fared badly in maths – but what about language papers, I have scored so high marks and he never mentions that. Isn’t it unfair?

But Rubina why can’t you be good in maths also?

Because I do not like maths – papa – that is why.

Rubina – why don’t you ever listen to what your elders have to say to you? Your father wants you to be good in maths, so you should try. Sheela, who resembled her brother in looks only and not by nature sounded extremely annoyed.

Don’t start it again pisimoni(aunty) - Rubina wailed.

Mrs. Meera Basu spoke at last - you should be happy that our child has an independent mind- or would you have liked if she met the fate of shantimasi.

Please don’t start confusing me Meera. What has it got to do with the fate of Shantamasi, and who is she .

Mrs. Basu put down her pen, closed the exercise book, she was checking and came over to the sofa to join the other three

Shantimasi was the first born of a well to do family and she was a source of joy to every body who came to know her. She was a beauty to look at and a docile , demure and obedient girl child, that is so dear to all parents.

Meera , you speak as if you do not want your daughter to do as you wish.

No didi , really I do not want Rubina to obey blindly. Children should be given the right to express their own opinion. If she does not like maths, she should be excused and again if she is weak in maths that is quite natural and nothing to be ashamed of.

Was your shantimasi weak in maths ma, asked rubina.

No dear, she was good in all subjects including mathematics. She was so quiet and soft even her peers loved and adored her. She was not even sixteen when her parents were flooded with marriage proposals from families of prospective grooms and one of the applicants were one of the riches families in the city at that time. Though shantimasi had only completed school and although she was not quite inclined to marry yet her marriage was fixed and the dates were finalized as her parents never thought of asking her the specific question and Shantimasi was too docile and obedient to contradict her parents and like a good maid she felt ashamed to discuss such matters with them.

How absurd, Rubina exclaimed!

Yes she was true to our Indian culture, to be docile and obedient. Not like you people, having no shame at all. Sheela grumbled.

On the day of marriage shantamasi looked like a princess out of the fairy tales but her friends were disappointed to see the groom. He was not at all handsome. Though not exactly ugly, he was quite short almost the same height at shantamasi, hefty , a square chin, flat nose and close set small eyes. Her friends termed the pair as the beauty and the beast.

How mean- rubina cried. I hope the groom didn’t know.

Well I am afraid he did.

That is how people ruin others happiness- sheela put in. And for that matter it is not beauty but the pocket that matters where males are concerned.

Well shantamasi was lucky to get a very loving mother-in-law. Shantamasi was her favourite and she showered her with love and affection and even parted with her most precious jewellery and adorned the bride, for which the other daughter-in-laws never forgave her.

Where is the cliché in this tale Meera. It proves my point that those who listens to their elders lead a happy and prosperous life- Sheela added with satisfaction and Rubina looked at her mother - hurt for being let down.

But I am not finished yet. Everybody told shantimasi that she need not carry on her studies and instead start looking after her family like the good old maid-

And what is so wrong in that say- Sheela asked indignantly. In those days women did look after the family and need not think about earning as their men folk took care of that abundantly. So what is the point of needlessly wasting time and money on studies?

Yes! that was exactly what her mother in law said and though shantamasi would have liked to study further she concentrated on domestic matter instead.

What a waste of human talent that was what her friends and teachers said

By the time shantamasi was 30 she was the mother of four, one being lost at birth. Her husband on the other hand never pursued any particular job. Instead after finishing his studies he spent his money speculating in share market . He speculated and he lost, as he did not have the knowledge of the markets, but he was spoilt and being the youngest of the siblings nobody ever really criticized or questioned his him. Shantamasi also did not do so and thus started their downfall. With the passage of time her husband got addicted to bad habits like drinking and others that follow drinking.

What are they. ma- rubina asked curiously.

You wouldn’t understand because you are too young. One day when you grow up you will know what these are.

Shantamasi should have put her foot down but she was molded in such a fashion that she could only cry and fret making her husband angry and ultimately he started hitting her in fits of drunkenness and in frustration. Her husband lost money in markets, his friends cheated him and he was going down in all fronts – he was a broken man , an alcoholic, and he blamed it all on her.

How unfair! Why didn’t shantamasi protest?

One day when shantamasi made up enough courage to confront him and ask why do you behave this way, he answered

Because of you

Because of me? She was so hurt and bewildered.

Yes because you are no help to me. I cannot turn to you for guidance or in distress. You can only look pretty . Beauty and the beast indeed. Should have known beauty without brains is of no value. His words were worse than physical blows to her.

Shantamasi was shell shocked. She loved her husband and did everything to please him but she did not know that people tend to take her kind for granted. Her husband found an easy prey in her , an escape route to blame all his misfortunes on her for he knew she will never speak out, she will brood and cry but will not fling the truth at his face.

Slowly and steadily shantamasi was being consumed by depression with no one to turn to for consolation. Her children were too young and she belonged to that creed who would not discuss about her husband’ short coming with family relations. She will stay cooped up in her room, with the lights off- she won’t look after her children the youngest being only five year old. The children slowly came to terms with the state of affairs and were reared by the maids and servants, for in those days, even not so well to do households too kept servants and shantamasi was still rich. In the absence of the watchful eye of an mistress the servants also started taking their shares from the household when a day came that there was literally no money to pay the debtors like the grocers, the dhobi, the salaries of the servants and even the tuition fees of the children who where going to schools. One day shantamasi’s father came and took her and the children away leaving his son-in-law to fend for himself. Her father was quite influential and rich and he took the reins in his hands.

So I told you the good are blessed by God- sheela said with relief.

But God did not bless her. For her own father sent shantamasi to a mental asylum as there was not really any advanced treatment for mental illness at that time and he did not want the children to grow up under the shadow of a mental mother. Shantamasi perished in the asylum. The children grew up on their own . their father passed away . only the youngest of them used to cry secretly for her mother- she missed her gentle touch, for she used to sleep with her mother and even when her siblings were going to school, she still remained at home and stuck close to her mother.

But how do you know that she missed her mother- mama?

She was more or less my age and a friend of mine. She used to confide in me.

The grandfather was growing old but he looked after everything. Before his death he was a happy man to see both her grand daughters married to able men and both her grandsons earning handsome salaries .

What happened to her ornaments ma? Rubina , at this tender age was extremely fond of jewellery, not only for wearing them but she nurtured in her hurt a secret wish that one day she would be a jewellery designer, making intricate designs out of precious jewels and metals.

Well she owned a huge collection of beautiful ornaments pure gold, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pearls to say the least and her father distributed them equally between the two daughters keeping a pair of kankans and a necklace for brides of the two sons.

“Have you seen the ornament ma? Are they more beautiful than yours?” “Well of course I have seen them and her ornaments were much more than mine”.

Meanwhile, twice the asylum authorities wrote that shantamasi has been cured and should be taken home to make room for the ill. But her father ignored the letters. But why ma? Because while getting her granddaughters marriage he declared her daughter dead for in our society at that time and even now mental illness is a taboo in the marriage market. To see to it that his two granddaughters get secured homes the old man had to swallow the bitter pill.

Her youngest daughter got married to a very broad hearted man and both of them decided to bring back the old lady.

So nice of them. I told you a good soul is always rewarded at the end. God never rejects them totally. Sheela’s deep faith in the divine grace for the good found a foothold.

When the daughter saw her mother after nearly 25 years, to say she was shocked is to underestimate. Her mother has changed beyond recognition, the daughter could find nothing in the old lady that she could relate to her image of her mother. She saw a human wreck, an emaciated old woman, almost skinny and stooping with a kind of frightened but cunning look in her eyes. The woman could not trust any body and cringed away from any show of affection. Only time she showed any interest or responded was when she was served food and she ate them as if she was starving all these 25 years.

Poor woman, God should not have made her suffer so much, being such a good soul, what will happen to people’s faith and trust on Him- sheela lamented.

What happened next ma- did her daughter loved her mother still mama?

Yes dear, her daughter loved her even more but they could not keep her with them for long. After all it is hard for normal men and women to stay with a person afflicted with mental disease- although she was cured vastly but the doctor’s declared that she could not be cured completely. She was not in touch with society for such a long time, she spent her time among mentally ill persons and most probably than not ill treated. She would not take bath unless told, wont dress properly, would make things dirty, especially the toilet- in a nutshell she would behave like a child minus the child’s innocence and lovability. People started asking questions and the daughter and her husband started avoiding visitors until the daughter could take it no longer. When the daughter showed signs of nervous breakdown her husband thought enough is enough. He could not sacrifice his wife’s well-being especially while she was in the family way and the old woman was once again sent back to her old resort- the mental home.

Oh no ma, so selfish of them. How could they do such a cruel thing. Rubina almost broke into tears.

God has strange ways of meting out justice- we ordinary people should not try to judge his act.- it was sheela again.

How is shantimasi now ma?

She is no more. Four years back one day her children were notified by the asylum that their mother has passed away. They all heaved shies in relief- only the youngest one thought that may be her mother was living so long in the hope of a deliverance- but after she was taken back and then rejected by her own daughter, may be she lost all hope and with that the desire to live.

Her daughter is a hypocrite, if she realized why did she let it happen. Rubina was strong in condemnation.

Shantimasi had a handsome amount put in the bank by her father in her name, from which all her expenses were being meted out so long. But now the amount was divided between her four children. They accepted it with gratitude and humility and most of them put it in a fixed deposit. But only her youngest daughter went out and bought a Sony Home theatre, which was so rare and costly those days, that only people like the business tycoons could afford to buy. She bought it so that she could be constantly reminded of her mother

Rubina sat beside her mother in stunned silence, remote in hand, looking at their Sony Home theatre . After a while she said, with a slightly shaky voice– mama I think your shantimasi cannot be blamed for her weakness of character- what can she do if God made her that way. And her daughter, here her voice shook even dangerously, should not be blamed. Think of her, only five and without a mother to look after, here I am almost twelve and my mama does everything for me. Her voice chocked and she started crying… mama I love you so much.. I am so sorry… I will be a good girl and listen to what you and papa say. I promise mama I will be a good girl

Sheela wiped her tears with the corner of her saree . .

Mr Basu looked up from the paper he was studying so carefully and said. We may start from this moment. Come on Rubina bring your exercise book of maths, we will start practicing from this moment.

Instantly the girl jumped up- oh papa, you are always after me… I don’t want to do maths now, and for that matter , never at all.

All three elders smiled indulgently.