MY JOURNEY
STILL TO BE CONTINUED…..
PROLOGUE-1:
“INCREDIBLE JOB ANU! NOW YOUR HUBBY IS CURED FROM AGONISIA YET I STILL WONDER ABOUT HIS SPEED RECOVERY. GENERALLY PEOPLE SUFFERING FROM SUCH PSYCHOLOGICAL DISORDERS WOULD FIND IT HARD TO RECUPATE WITH”.
“HOPE ARJUN RECOGNIZES ME RITHIKA”, EXCLAIMED ANU.
“YEAH I HOPE! I TOO WAS REALLY STARTLED WHEN HE RECOGNIZED ME”- REPLIES RITHIKA.
“OF COURSE HE WOULD RECOGNIZE YOU RITIKHA .YOU HAVE BEEN TREATING HIM FROM THE PAST SIX MONTHS OR SO. DESPITE EVERYTHING HE IS YOUR BROTHER. SO THERE IS NO NEED FOR YOU TO BE DUMBFOUND. IT WOULD DEFINATELY BE A GREAT DEAL IF HE COULD IDENTIFY ME”, REPLIED ANU IN A WORRIED TONE.
“NO WORRIES ANU SINCE HE IS PERFECTLY ALRIGHT. HE IS UNDER OBSERVATION TODAY AND BY TOMORROW HE WILL BE DISCHARGED”.
“WELL THEN… WITH A POSITIVE HOPE THAT HE RECOGNIZES ME I’LL LEAVE FOR TODAY”.
“BYE ANU…. TAKE CARE” RITHIKA ACKNOWLEDGED.
PROLOGUE-2:
“CHILLY WINDS, CRAPPY RAINS, SANDY BUNDS, GRUMPY HONKS FROM VEHICLES…..THIS IS HOW EARLY MORNINGS DURING RAINY SEASONS BEGIN.
OF COURSE IT DIDN’T BOTHER ME MUCH.
I GARED MY CAR TO REACH BUDHNAGAR NEAR GAZIABAD ON TIME. TRAFFIC IS WHAT REALLY MATTERS BECAUSE OF WHICH I HAD TO TAKE A SHORT ROUTE TO REACH THE PLACE. AS THE CAR SURPASSED THE SCANTY LANES FILLED WITH WATER, MUD AND THE GARBAGE THROWN BY THE SLUMS, I COULD’T DRIVE AT A GOOD SPEED.
SOON THESE NARROW LANES DWINDLED INTO THE MAIN ROAD .IT WAS QUITE A CONTRAST TO THE LANE THROUGH WHICH I DROVE EARLIER- FULLY OCCUPIED WITH SKYSCRAPERS, ESTATED LAND AND HUGE BUNGLOWS (RICHY LOOKS).
BY THE TIME I REACHED THE HIGHWAY IT WAS TWO THIRTY (MID-NIGHT). THE STREETS WERE UTTER SILENT AND SPOOKY. THE CONSTANT HORNS, RUMBLING SOUND AND YELLOWISH GLARE FROM THE HEADLIGHTS OF LOADED LORRIES WERE THE ONLY THINGS I COULD SEE AND HEAR.IT WAS RATHER A VERY TEDIOUS AND BORING JOURNEY AS THE MUSIC SYSTEM HAD FLUNKED TO WORK .I HAD TO DRIVE FOR THREE MORE HOURS.
I SLOWLY STARTED RECUPATING SINCE I WAS DISCHARGED FROM HOSPITAL.
HOWEVER THINGS HAD GOT WORSE AT OUR MILLS IN BUDHNAGAR.THEY STARTED SUFFERING LOSSES FROM THE TIME I HAD BEEN ADMITTED IN THE HOSPITAL. ASHWATH WAS PUBLICALY ELECTED AS TEMPORARY MANAGER BY A FEW WORKERS AND EMPLOYEES. SOON CRISIS HIT THE MILLS .ALL THE LABOUR AND EMPLOYEES WERE HAULED ONTO THE ROADS DUE TO FINANCIAL EXTREMITY.
EMPLOYEES STARTED RAISING THEIR VOICE AGAINST THE MILL, PLACARDS WERE DISPLAYED TO REIMBURSE THEIR WAGES AND A HEAVY AGAUST ROSE BETWEEN EMPLOYEES, LABOURERS AND ME.TEMPERS WERE FRAYED EVERY NOW AND THEN.EVENTUALLY ASHWATH COULD NOT COPE WITH THIS SITUATION.
RITHIKA LEFT TO CHINA ON SOME MANDATORY WORK.ALL THESE SITUATIONS FORCED ME TO INTERVEIN….
I COULDN’T REFRAIN MY EYES FROM BECOMING MOIST DUE TO THE COLD BREEZE BLOWING HEAVILY.
ALL THESE STREAM OF THOUGHTS INTERRUPTED ME AS I SAW A WOMEN OR RATHER A YOUNGLADY RUNNING TOWARDS MY CAR.
HER EYES WERE RED, HAIR SHABBY AND SHE WAS PALE BEYOND NORMAL SKIN COMPLEXION… SHE APPROACHED MY CAR GASPING, WHICH MADE ME STOP THE CAR.
SHE STARED AT ME WITH A PLEADING EXPRESSION ON HER FACE WHICH FILLED MY HEART WITH PITY .HER LOOKS SAID SHE WAS FAMILIAR WITH ME FROM A LONG TIME.
“LIFT PLEASE!!” SHE URGED. MIDNIGHT….THAT TOO ISOLATED PLACE….WHY IS THIS LADY ASKING ME LIFT? - I THOUGHT.”PLEASE!!!” SHE FORCED AND I COULDN’T RESIST.
AS SHE ASCENDED INTO THE FRONT SEAT, I WHEELED THE CAR.
A STREAM OF SILENCE PASSED BETWEEN US FOR A FEW MINUTES.IT MADE THE JOURNEY EVEN MORE DESSERTED.
THE ONLY THING I COULD OBSERVE WAS THAT SHE WAS WEARING A WHITE SHIRT AND A BLACK PULLOVER COAT OVER IT WHICH JUST RESEMBLED A LAWYER’S SUIT.
I FELT A LITTLE INCONVENIENT DUE TO THIS ODD SILENCE. AFTER A WHILE I ASKED “MAM, WHERE SHOULD I DROP YOU?”
SHE WAS BUSILY IMMERSED TEXTING IN HER PHONE. A FEW SECONDS LATER SHE REPLIED HASTILY “BULANDSHAHAR”. I WAS STUMPED BY HER REPLY AS IT WAS JUST NEAR BUDHNAGAR. WHAT A COINCEDENCE!
BY THE TIME I ACKNOWLEDGED HER “NEAR GAZIABAD” SHE SAID.
AFTER FEW TREMORS OF SILENCE I ASKED,
“IS IT YOUR NATIVE PLACE, MAM?”
“YEAH” SHE REPLIED.
THESE SHORT REPLIES BLAZED ME MORE AND MORE, SO I TRANQUILIZED MYSELF.
AS TIME PASSED BY EITHER THIS SILENCE AROUSED BOREDOM IN HER OR SHE HAD SENSED MY IRRITANT FEELING THAT SHE INTRODUCED HER SELF,
“HI! I AM ANITHA. AN IMPORTANT WORK MADE ME TO TRAVEL THIS LATE NIGHT. I HIRED A LOCAL TAXI WHICH UNFORTUNATELY BROKEDOWN ON THE WAY. SO I HAD TO ASK YOU FOR A LIFT AS IT WAS MY ONLY OPTION.”
UFF!! SHE SEEMED TRUSTWORTHY. “THIS NIGHT IMPORTANT WORK??” I ASKED.
“YEAH! KAL RAKHI HAI NA JEE .WE REGARD IT AS AN AUSPICIOUS UNION. HENCE, I HAD TO VISIT MY PLACE”. SHE EXPLAINS.
“OH!! SO YOU HAVE BROTHERS?? HOWEVER YOU SHOULD HAVE STARTED TOMORROW RATHER THAN LATE MIDNIGHT”, I SUGGESTED.
“YEAH!! I HAVE ONE… I WOULD BE LATE IF I HAD STARTED TOMORROW”, SHE SAID WITH A SOUR EXPRESSION AND ALMOST-TEARFUL- EYES.
ON SEEING HER FACE I THOROUGHLY REGRETTED MY QUESTION AND REMAINED SILENT.
“DO YOU HAVE ANY SISTERS?” SHE QUESTIONED BACK, BREAKING THE SILENCE.
“YES! SHE WENT TO CHINA FOR SOME IMPORTANT WORK”, I SAID IN A FIRM TONE.
“SORRY I USUALLY GET EMOTIONAL WHEN I TALK ABOUT MY BROTHER. IT IS NOT BECAUSE I’M SENTIMENTAL TYPE. I JUST RESPECT HIM MORE THAN I HAVE RESPECTED ANY ONE SO FAR”, SHE REPLIES WEAKLY.
“WHY??” I ASK OUT OF CURIOSITY BUT LATER RECONSIDER IT.
“THERE IS A SHORT STORY BEHIND THAT. I WOULDN’T LIKE TO BORE YOU BY RANTING IT NOW”, SHE SAYS SADLY.
“ANYWAYS, THAT STORY WOULD BE WAY BETTER THAN THE EARLIER AWKWARD SILENCE”, I REPLY….AND ON REPEATED PERSUASION SHE STARTS TELLING HER STORY. MAYBE FLASHBACK IS A BETTER WORD……………
CHAPTER 1:
GAZIABAD (BULANDSHAHAR) 1987:
“Boy!!”
This was the only word which rippled throughout Ghaziabad. People knew that my mother was pregnant and that the delivery date had been announced.
“Second heir of Sardar!!” everyone shouted with joy. These words babbled the entire village.
My father, Ramanand Sardar was sitting in the corridor curling his mustache with a pride gesture and my grandmother felicitating him for anticipating that another lad would be born in Sardar’s family.
Budhnagar a village attached to Bulandshaher was my uncle, Sardar Shivanand’s. He didn’t have any son’s to be heir’s to the village after him.
Many plans have thus been chalked out that my brother would reign Ghaziabad and Bulandshaher.
Even my uncle had come down to hand over Bulandshaher if a boy would be born.
Each and every plan to sway the authority over the two villages had almost been molded and had been finalized to take a shape a day before delivery.
The pleasant and peaceful night spine-chilled everyone as my mother started yelling at the top of her voice in agony holding her stomach tight.
‘Sishu Vidyalaya’ was the only hospital located at a seven kilometer distance from Budhnagar where the people would go if under extreme condition.
Three bullock carts had rushed to the house of which one was completely occupied by my mother and the other two were for the family and a few excited bit of crowd.
The bullock carts had to cross Bulandshaher village.
In general cases it would take half an hour to reach the hospital but at the night as we had to pass the sea shore it took an hour more.
As the minutes ticked by the pain gradually increased along with the excitement. However it reached to a peak condition as we almost reached the hospital. No sooner than we reached the hospital, the surgeon took a quick view of the situation and shifted my mother to the I.C.U as she was unable to take normal breath under her critical state.
Ten minutes later the nurse rushed out. As the time passed by two blood packets, syringes, cotton, scissors and a saline bottle was hurriedly taken by her again into the room.
“What are all these dad? What are they doing with mummy? Why is she screaming?” exclaimed my brother Vaibhav in a horrified tone.
“You are going to have a baby brother beta… they are just taking him out”, flaunted my father.
“Wow! Brother! Can I play with him? Can I go to school? Now I am not alone Papa”, lilted my brother.
“Yes Vaibhav! Beyond all these you both are going to rule Bulandshaher and Budhnagar”, exhilarated my grandmother though she had no clue about who would be born.
As the time elapsed everyone started dosing off-few people already snoring. The entire hospital was hushed, only the cool breeze and smell of sweet flowers took their way in .
Hours later a shrill cry coupled by a loud squeal woke every one.
Everyone were equally exited for the doctor to announce that a boy was born.
My grandmother was ready with a sweet box even on being aware that Papa is diabetic.
The Surgeon first came out removing her gloves and a green mask which covered her nose and mouth.
“Congratulations Sardar!!!” she exclaimed.
“How is my son? Is he healthy and well born?”, asked my father eagerly.
“Should you ask these childish questions? How would Sardar’s son be …… so much like his father….”, answered my grandmother.
“Sardarji, it’s not a boy….. It’s a girl!!!!!!!!” drawled the surgeon.
Silence echoed throughout the hospital for a while. My grandmother being an old lady collapsed onto the floor after having heard about the girl child. Anger grew on my father’s face. He went tomato red as tears started rolling down his eyes.
“It’s OK Bhaiya. These days both the genders are treated equal. It doesn’t matter” said my uncle gleefully. It might be true about what he said out of concern for my father but there were more chances that he said it out of mere sarcasm.
My father pressed the throat of the surgeon tearfully and dragged her to I.C.U just like a dog, while he snatched the baby from the cradle and started running out.
All the doctors tried to stop him but their attempts went in vain.
He straightaway took the baby to his mother.
“Ma! What should I do with this crap? It’s of no use to us”, he screamed.
“Beta isko tho khana kilao” she said as she started inserting a grain into the baby’s tiny mouth. This is a traditional way in which a baby is killed due to the grain getting stuck in its tract suffocating its breath.
Doctors and people rushed to stop. The loud and heavy cry of baby woke Vaibhav.
He rubbed his eyes to retrieve a clear view still half-asleep.
Unaware of the serious situation he asked “Pappa I’ll also carry my brother”. He rushed to my father while all the people stared at him.
“This is not boy!!! It’s an idiotic girl and I don’t want u to touch her” he screamed. “Ashoka!! Isko lejao!!”
Ashoka is one of the cart driver.
Many attempts were made to insert the grain but in vein because of the people and doctor’s refusal.
“It is illegal”, prompted a person from crew.
“Sardarji! We understand you. Don’t make it an issue, do it silently .There is huge crowed here .If any one stands as a witness you will be accused of and we will all get screwed up”, suggested the Chief.
“Who will stand as a witness against me, huh!?” shouted Sardar.
“You don’t understand the situation Sardarji. These days’ laws have become hectically uncompromising especially with this media recording even the simplest of cases .Even a small trace unfurls to becoming a great fuss”.
“FIR, charge sheet, trials, judgment, imprisonment… finally vandalizes your acclaim”, Urged the Doctor- in- Chief.
“Yes Sardar, there are many NGOs and Women organizations who frequently spy on these events round the clock. Any sort of suspicion and they will approach the police directly or through the media. So don’t resort to any criminal activity in public”, evocated cart driver, Ashoka.
Sardar sank down on the chair with his brain preoccupied with all these exhorts given by people.
‘What if I get accused? What are the consequences? Will I get ill famed? But what is the use with girl child? Will she rule? No women are just machines for giving birth’- these thoughts started spinning in Sardar’s brain.
As the time flew by, he stood and declared,
“Ashoka! Ghoda nikalo”, and rushed shoving the people one after the other who were trotting their legs.
“Jaldi chalao”, he screamed at Ashoka.
Ashoka instantaneously accelerated the relent and the stubborn horses started moving with a propulsive force dragging the wheels with exorbitant momentum.
“Kahan janahai sahib?” Ashoka questioned.
“Sea shore”, ordered the Sardar.
“What are you going to do sahib?”, Ashoka flipped back another question.
“Blend this bloody mass with water”
“Careful sahib as that may leave the corpse”, endorsed Ashoka.
“I’ll tie a stone to its stomach and throw it away into the water”, Sardar hurled back…………………….
“What is that sound??!!!!!”, exclaimed Anita bewildered.
“Maybe the tire burst” I acknowledged.
“I am short with time… oh shit!! It’s already six, I need to go, I’ll find a taxi!!”, she said.
“Even I’m in a hurry Anita. This early in the morning and how would you find a taxi???”, I responded.
“Anyways once we cross this forest area, we’re almost done”, I added.
“It’s silent here, very calm right, I am worried please I’ll go”, she stared at me.
I couldn’t say anything but just give a weird smile..,
“I’m not that kind of a person if you haven’t realized by now…However it’s your wish but I assure you it is more safe if you stay here”, I said as I leaped down the car requesting her to handover the extra step pine and tool kit in the backseat of the car.
“OMG!!! It’s very heavy”, she exclaimed as she bought it.
I removed my shirt as it is new one and to get rid of sweat and grease.
“Oh! What do you think you are you doing???”, she asked in a terrified and bewildered tone.
When women unnecessarily suspects you for no reason there is no option but to sulk- which I did.
Ignoring her question I took a few wrenches from tool kit and got hooked up in removing the burst tire.
“Ah! It is a very tough job right”, she said.
“Yeah! Can I except that you reduce my effort by telling the remaining part of your exiting story”, I urged.
“So ummm …… where exactly did I stop???”, she drawled.
“Stone, etc…”, I said.
“Oh yeah! Even laymen in older days followed Archimedes principle” I added.
“What? What Archimedes principle??”, she questioned still deeply in thought.
“Tying stone to body, immersing into water, etc…”, I answered.
She blushed finally understanding my sarcasm.
‘Petty good cinematic stuff’, I thought.
“Why do you want me to continue my story if you don’t believe even a bit of it”, she screamed.
“Ok, ok chill! I do believe it…That’s why I’m asking you to continue out of mere curiosity… so continue the other part”, I started fixing the nuts, throwing an ear to what she was saying and realized the car was almost ready.
“I’ll continue the other part as my brother saying it to you” she said laughing. “Just for effectiveness” she added.
“OK dear Vaibhav… You may as I permit you to”, I replied giggling…………………………………….
Chapter-2:
Being a professional driver, Ashoka rode the chariot with good speed….Father was sitting near him…That was probably the first time I saw my little sister, staring at me with wide, dark, sparkly eyes.
Her red face just resembled a sliced watermelon, nose small and pointed, lips pink and face pale with the cold breeze….
It was the first time I held her in my arms though my hands were not too strong to bear the weight. I noticed she had my eyes and her face cut resembled my father’s….
She started playing with my fingers and kept laughing.
Black iris in her eyes, worried face, and feared laugh showed that she was confused and a bit afraid.
I had a keychain which Gopal gave to me. I took it from my pocket as I started shaking it… The sound of bells and red colored love symbols made her laugh even more.
‘Maybe girls get fascinated with these items, toys etc when they are born, hence people refer them as girlish items’, I concluded.
‘What’s wrong with having a girl child? Why did Dad want to kill this cute little baby?’ All these chain of thoughts where interrupted when my father roared “Rohko! Ashoka”.
Ashoka stopped the horses immediately.
My father grappled the baby from my arms.
“Ashoka get me that stone”, he said pointing towards a huge stone.
‘What if father really fling her in the water? Can the baby take its breath? It suffers a lot, should I accept it? Should I raise my voice? What should I do??’ I thought
Meanwhile Ashoka bought the stone and father removed his shawl which he was wearing.
“Ashoka help me”, he ordered as Ashoka braided the shawl and the stone and further they curbed it to the babies stomach.
“Lift it”, said my father.
“Too heavy sahib”, Ashoka lamented.
“Yes, it should be lest this crap would popup”, father replied.
“I have to get into action”, I said to myself descending the cart.
“No Papa!”, I screamed as I ran towards them. They continued to swing the baby like an act to accelerate some object with a high speed.
“Ashoka stop”, I urged as I ran….He did not listen to me.
It was their third swing as they left out the baby. I stopped for a while, tears started rolling down my eyes. I just would have hit my father…..The crook!! If I would new his instincts well before.
‘There is no time man’, I said to myself as I kept on running through my wheezing breath.
I ran towards the river.
“STOP”, my father and Ashoka screamed from far side.
I didn’t give up as I escalated onto a stone nearby and sprigged into the river. Maybe learning swimming mentally accelerated me to do this act.
The water was chilly and my little hands froze as I bounced in water with hands stretched forward to prevent the impulsive effect.
‘Hitting legs against water, pumping the water back’ it’s the first lesson thought to me in the swimming class by my coach which I did before pushing myself deep.
The intensity of little tides was extremely high even then I managed myself into a two feet depth, where I could see the shawl bounded to the baby.
Even with withheld breath, frozen hands and painful legs I pushed myself forward.
My heart sank as I saw the drowning baby. It didn’t wobble. It made me attempt the same act this time not only two feats but even more deep.
After several attempts, finally I could catch the shawl arched to the baby and pulled it out.
As expected the baby didn’t breathe. I felt despair. I found my father and Ashoka from far side.
So, I decided to take the baby to the other side of the river and could only do it as I swam for a few more meters.
I laid my sister down on the ground and started compressing its stomach.
The osmotic pressure pumped a little amount of water out of its belly and repeated attempts drained out a few more. However finally the body didn’t react.
I prayed to God and aired into the baby’s mouth hoping some air to pass into its windpipe. The result didn’t popup.
I thought to accept my fate and viewed the baby for the last time with tears in my eyes.
‘I should screw my father. He is really a crook and homicide. He thinks it’s a great act… Is being a Sardar a responsibility or taking power into your own hands ,even police don’t charge him and he takes it for granted…Damn shit!!!!!!’,I said myself as I walked few meters carried away by my sister’s death…. Suddenly a shrill cry broke the silence around and it made me turn back.
It was the baby…..She is alive!! Wow!! I thought as I held it up with my feeble hands…….
So guess who the baby is??????
“It’s you” I exclaimed …….
EPILOGUE:
“WHAT ABOUT YOUR FATHER?” I QUESTIONED.
“MAKING A MISTAKE MAY NOT BE AS EASY AS ACCEPTING THE FACT AND REALISING IT…. BY FEELING REMORSE ABOUT WHAT YOU DID IS THE GREATEST…. REALIZING YOUR EGO INFRONT OF ALL THE PEOPE MAY TAKE A LOT….HE SURRENDERED HIMSELF TO POLICE.”
“SOO, IS HE STILL UNDER CUSTODY??” I ASKED.
“NO, HE ISN’T. AS HE SURRENDERED HIMSELF HE HAD TO FACE A FEW YEARS OF IMPRISONMENT. LATER THE SARDAR SYSTEM WAS BANNED. ALL WE ARE LEFT WITH IS A FEW MILLS AND A SEVEN ACRE LAND.” SHE REPLIED.
“SO WHAT IS VAIBHAV DOING NOW??” I ASKED CURIOUSLY.
“RIGHT, RIGHT”… SHE SAID POINTING HER HAND AS I TURNED MY CAR.
“YEAH!! THIS IS MY HOUSE….THE LANE IS TOO NARROW….MAYBE YOUR CAR WON’T FIT IN…..ANYWAYS THANKS A LOT FOR THE LIFT”, SHE SAID HUMBLY AS SHE DECENDS THE CAR.
AS SHE WALKS AWAY AN URGE MAKES ME HORN.
SHE TURNS AND I THANK HER FOR THE SENTIMENTAL STORY AND FOR MAKING MY JOURNEY ENJOYABLE.
“I WANT TO SEE MEET FAMILY”, I SAY.
“ANY TIME!!!”, SHE REPLIES AND CONTINUES WALKING.
Her story reminded me of Ritikha and the isolated city relationships, their mechanical lives and commercial life styles.
Finally I reach the destination. As said that many wars, violence’s and offences raise only through misunderstanding which can easily be solved through a mere conversation i.e. a word is mightier than a sword, I assured all the workers that the money will be paid back in a month or so..
They were cooperative and patiently listened to me, either out of respect for me or out of a blind trust…. I convinced them in a few hours.
They sat around me and soon their aggressive tone changed to affirmative and we all had a friendly lunch followed by conversations about the past and present status of the mill and steps to be taken in the future….These conversations made me more and more close to the workers and employees.
A few hours later I had to start my return journey.
“Arjun sab ko jorese zindabad!!”, a person screamed while all other accompanied him and applauded.
Placards were hit down…everyone were equally elated and filled with hope.
‘People by nature are not violent, situations make them so’, I realized as I ascended into my car and zoomed.
This made me recollect about that Sardar who himself was not evil minded…. It was the situations that seeded a hat redness against the ‘girl child’ I thought.
This journey started as a boring one and is ending with many lessons of love, respect, hope, trust, relationships and many other things…..As I thought my phone beeped
“Oh!! It’s from Ritika”, I said to myself…
It stated…..
“Hi!! This is from your sweet sister rithika@anitha to arjun@vaibhav, didn’t even recognize me, still not recovered completely from agonisia and started travelling… it’s not your fault its Anu’s .Dropped me in midway …rakhi’s are beneath the seat which I sat on …collect them ,recollect me. Anyway we’re eagerly waiting for you in Bulandshaher come safely…….
YOUR TREATMENT IS STILL TO BE CONTINUED”