Thursday, September 17, 2009

Rupa

I was only five years old when I lost both my father and mother in one week. I was being brought up by my uncle, who did not had much food for me but a lots of affection in his heart. I was seven years old then, playing on the mud floor of our hut, when I heard uncle and aunty discussing outside.

Aunty was dead against letting me go, even though they had two sons of their own but they loved me and my sister like their own. They used to first feed and clothe us four then they used to think about themselves. Aunty was insisting that it was not safe to let a girl go out to stay with others, whereas uncle was saying that there I will get square meal and a shelter, and if babu will be happy with her work, he may help us in getting her married.

So of I went to the town, to live with babu, kakima and their toddler, kakima was not like aunty, she used to wake me up early in the morning, after waking up I had to sweep the rooms, stair and the courtyard. I had to wash the utensils, and at the spare time I had to take care of guddu, kakima’s son. Kakima used to beat me up at every fault, some times with hand and some times with stick. She used to feed me with leftovers, and in front of my eyes used to give guddu all sort of good things to eat, which he used to spit out. One day when guddu was eating kakima asked me to watch him and went to the kitchen, guddu was eating sweets and I picked two of them and stuffed in my mouth, to my horror kakima entered the room right at that instant. When she saw what I have done she grabbed me by my hair and started to hit me with all her might. All of a sudden a friend of her walked in, seeing the shock in her eyes kakima told her that I have stolen five hundred rupees from her purse. Her friend told her to call my folks. Then they both went away to chat in the next room. I slowly tiptoed out of the house to the street and ran where my eyes will take me.

I has never come out of the house after coming here, and have never been to a town before. I was standing there crying, all alone, without any idea of where to go. All I knew that if I was able to search my way back to kakima’s home she will beat me even more for going out of the house. And I did not know the way to my village. All of a sudden someone stopped beside me, I recognized him instantly, he was a shop owner right outside kakima’s home.

He asked me what has happened, when I told him, he told that they are bad people, very bad, he will take me to my village, and I started to walk with him. He took me to a house, where a woman opened the door, she was dressed up like she was going out for some party, she looked at shop keeper uncle angrily and held my hand, uncle told me to stay with her while he gets a rickshaw and walked away.

6 comments:

  1. Nice end. It happens.

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  2. what nice end? its a horrible story.. :(

    a warning which should be sent to all people who send out their small children to cities to work.

    human beings!

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  3. Complimented the realism in the tale, and your guts in telling it. Did not compliment the moral depravity described in it.

    You wouldn't want me to rephrase it "Very bad end, never happens" would you :)

    Don't be sad, we can only write about these, we are no social reformers.

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  4. i thought you did not get the last part.. the place where the girl ended up.

    i wonder when this will stop.

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  5. It was a real nice story Dear Trisha. That's why I said so. I am not a tyro at witting to overlook such things. You have no confidence in me it seems:)

    There is a technique the ancient scholars popularized in India. It is called Dwani ( Suggestion). They empasised that nothing should be told directly or descriptively in a tale/drama/poem. We should only imply it. I follow it to the hilt, unless I intend to deliberately make it descriptive for some purpose.

    That last action of the guy walking away seemingly for a rickshaw is a case of Dwani( Suggestion. You shoul write more like that

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  6. i too love to leave things for guessing..

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