Asha ki kiran: A ray of hope ( I )
My name is Asha. It means Hope. Ironically neither my name nor my story can stand guard to my name. It has been 3 years since I used alphabets for anything other than scratching a name on the walls over and over again. I have never received any letter at my new address in Janakpuri. Years ago, at my old thatched cottage, I used to get letters of love every week. Although eventually I came to know that most of those letters were from Prema. One day I received a letter saying he wants to know my story. Even after ignoring the request for 10 weeks, he kept pressing on with reasons and promises of the power of a so called social something. So this letter is a reply to the young fellow's request.
I was born in a small village. Even after so many years of development, or pseudo-talks as I prefer to refer, we never saw a pole with cables, even till the day I left my village. May be in these 3 years I'm at Janakpuri, they would have received the fortune.
I was born in the dark of the night. My mother used to say that my father wanted a boy. Were he not drunk unconscious on the night of my birth, he wouldn't have let me live for more than 5 minutes. The day I was born, my father received a sum to vote for a particular candidate in the panch-elections. Neighbors urged my mother to name me Laxmi but my mother said I brought hope for her and named me Asha. I had a elder sister, Sita and a year later my brother, Mangal was born. We three grew up with great love for each other. Even though we rarely had enough for 5 hungry pouches, we were always content with everything. Father never stopped with local alcohol. I have never seen him adore Sita appa or me. But he used to take Mangal with him for his trips to the city and Mangal always came back which sweet marbles.
My sister, me and my brother we were happy in our own little world. On my 9th birthday there was a big party and lots of people came. Everyone was smiling and eating except Sita Appa. Even though she looked beautiful, her eyes never stopped flooding. I did not understand what was happening. People whispered to me that next it is my turn. Next morning, I woke up to find Sita Appa missing. She had been married off.
A little more than 2 years later and a similar party was set to send me off with a man who was 10 years elder to me. I was in a new house where for first few days everyone tried to make me comfortable but I never stopped crying. As soon as the music died down, in the death of the night, for the first time I was scared like never before. I was alone with the man they called my husband. He forced himself on me. I cudnt shout with his hand on my mouth. People must have heard my muffled cries when he tore me and I bled, but no one came. I cried and cried and he kept on overpowering me. I cudnt walk for days. Mother had told me that I should obey this man, so I did. During lights, I was expected to wash a tower of clothes left over from wedding, wash dishes and cut vegetables. And was allowed to eat only after everyone else.
When I turned to bed, I had one more job of obeying him.
8 years later, I vomited one morning. My mother in law was pleased. They took me to Doctor sahib. He told that I'm going to be the mother. Few months later, on another visit to sahib, he said it was a girl. I was so happy. My mother in law sent me to another room for check up. The doctor check me there. And after his procedure, he just said I should try again to seed a boy. I was distraught but cudnt utter a word of protest for what's done was done.
For the next 3 years, I was forcibly terminated for 9 times. During my 11th pregnancy, I did not tell anyone.
This was the time my husband married another girl, probably the same age as mine. They said I failed to give them an heir. I blamed my blood, my fate for conceiving girls over and over again. The day she came home, I was thrown out on the streets. I managed to steal my jewellery that my mother had given me and some money from my husband's sack.
I went back to my village. Where I found that my father had drunk himself to death and no body knew where my mother was. My brother was now a farmer. I did not go to him. I decided to go to Dilli where at least I could beg enough to eat at day's end.
I was born in a small village. Even after so many years of development, or pseudo-talks as I prefer to refer, we never saw a pole with cables, even till the day I left my village. May be in these 3 years I'm at Janakpuri, they would have received the fortune.
I was born in the dark of the night. My mother used to say that my father wanted a boy. Were he not drunk unconscious on the night of my birth, he wouldn't have let me live for more than 5 minutes. The day I was born, my father received a sum to vote for a particular candidate in the panch-elections. Neighbors urged my mother to name me Laxmi but my mother said I brought hope for her and named me Asha. I had a elder sister, Sita and a year later my brother, Mangal was born. We three grew up with great love for each other. Even though we rarely had enough for 5 hungry pouches, we were always content with everything. Father never stopped with local alcohol. I have never seen him adore Sita appa or me. But he used to take Mangal with him for his trips to the city and Mangal always came back which sweet marbles.
My sister, me and my brother we were happy in our own little world. On my 9th birthday there was a big party and lots of people came. Everyone was smiling and eating except Sita Appa. Even though she looked beautiful, her eyes never stopped flooding. I did not understand what was happening. People whispered to me that next it is my turn. Next morning, I woke up to find Sita Appa missing. She had been married off.
A little more than 2 years later and a similar party was set to send me off with a man who was 10 years elder to me. I was in a new house where for first few days everyone tried to make me comfortable but I never stopped crying. As soon as the music died down, in the death of the night, for the first time I was scared like never before. I was alone with the man they called my husband. He forced himself on me. I cudnt shout with his hand on my mouth. People must have heard my muffled cries when he tore me and I bled, but no one came. I cried and cried and he kept on overpowering me. I cudnt walk for days. Mother had told me that I should obey this man, so I did. During lights, I was expected to wash a tower of clothes left over from wedding, wash dishes and cut vegetables. And was allowed to eat only after everyone else.
When I turned to bed, I had one more job of obeying him.
8 years later, I vomited one morning. My mother in law was pleased. They took me to Doctor sahib. He told that I'm going to be the mother. Few months later, on another visit to sahib, he said it was a girl. I was so happy. My mother in law sent me to another room for check up. The doctor check me there. And after his procedure, he just said I should try again to seed a boy. I was distraught but cudnt utter a word of protest for what's done was done.
For the next 3 years, I was forcibly terminated for 9 times. During my 11th pregnancy, I did not tell anyone.
I went back to my village. Where I found that my father had drunk himself to death and no body knew where my mother was. My brother was now a farmer. I did not go to him. I decided to go to Dilli where at least I could beg enough to eat at day's end.
Good Job buddy... Its nice to see that you are into writing... Though i have read a few of your creations but they are Waao! and i am sure i will have the same expression for rest of them.. Keep up the good job and continue creating new Stories.
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Sabyasachi Das
Hope you remember me😉
Yeah I have also read his creations and I too got impressed by his way of writing. The selection of words are as beautiful as a person you are. Hope you remember me too buddy.
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