A MALE DESCENDENT AND MOKSHA

(Eternal Liberation of Soul)

Rathore family was happy when Shakuntala was born as the first child of Rajbir Singh Rathore. After religious rituals and havan- a sacrificial oblation to the fire god, the family took the newly born to the village temple and prayed before the goddess for her good fortune and a male sibling after her.

Unfortunately, Rajbir Singh had four more girls after Shakuntala. He was disappointed and so was his octogenarian father, Choudhary Dharambir Singh Rathore.

Rajbir and his father wanted the family name to continue and that was possible only if Rajbir had a male descendent. Besides, the old patriarch also believed that to attain moksha – eternal liberation of soul, the last rites of a deceased ought to be performed by a male descendent. Choudhary Dharambir Singh therefore insisted that Rajbir married again and had a male child from his new wife. Rajbir was reluctant. All his daughters other than Shakuntala were happily settled and financially well off. Rajbir was grateful to god for it.

Unfortunately, Shakuntala’s husband, Shyam Singh turned out to be a habitual gambler and an alcoholic. He squandered his ancestral property, remained mostly idle and was dependent on his in-laws. Two years after her marriage, Shakuntala gave birth to a girl child. They named her Seema. Shakuntala, Shyam Singh and their daughter, Seema lived with Rajbir Singh in the ancestral haveli.

Seema grew tall, beautiful and a bright student. She wanted to be a nurse. After completion of her schooling, Choudhary Dharambir Singh got her a seat in the State Nursing Institute.

Rajbir was over fifty but constantly under pressure from his father to remarry. He finally yielded and married Anita, thirty years his junior. Even though the marriage rituals were hastened, the old bridegroom could not avoid scornful comments of the guests.

“At his age, he should have thought of marrying his granddaughter rather than getting married himself,” someone said derisively.

“This is just to ensure that the property remains within the family,” the other quipped.

“Perhaps he thinks a male child will ensure his moksha,” yet another guest mocked.

Rajbir and Choudhary Dharambir Singh were mute listeners.

A year later, Anita gave birth to a male child. Choudhary Dharambir Singh was overjoyed and wanted large scale celebrations on the occasion. Entire village was invited to a feast. Dharambir Singh ensured lavish supply of liquor to the guests. He wanted them to rejoice and to rejoice himself. “Let this be the all-time best,” he told his munimji, the manager. The child was named Rajbaran Singh Rathore.

Rajbaran was three when Choudhary Dharambir Singh left the earthly world after brief illness. In his dying moments, the Choudhary felt assured of a heavenly berth for he knew his son Rajbir was there to perform his last rites.

Rajbir Singh was now old with indifferent health. Anita, the second wife of Rajbir Sigh became the de facto head of the family, which owned a large tract of land and several buildings. But her task of managing the estate was getting difficult with rising demur from Shakuntala and her mother, the first wife of Rajbir Singh..

Soon trouble brewed within the family and finally came to surface with the three women coming at loggerheads over the controlling of the property. Shyam Singh, who never liked Anita, instigated Shakuntala to ask for her share of the property.

Anita opposed the move vehemently.

“You are no longer a part of Rathore family. In fact, you are lucky that you have not been thrown out of the haveli,” she shouted at Shakuntala.

Rajbir was a hapless onlooker. He tried to pacify the two camps but his voice was lost in the din.

A week later, Anita asked Shakuntala to leave the haveli and shift to an adjoining house. “I have told the estate manager to give you two thousand rupees every month to run your household. That is the best you can expect from Rathore family.” She added contemptuously.

“You can’t do that to me. Daughters too have equal right over father’s property. I will take you to the court of law,” Shakuntala protested though she knew she needed someone to assist her in the matter and that her husband was thoroughly incompetent and unreliable.

The family finally split. Shakuntala shifted to the small house given to her by Anita along with Shyam Singh. Seema was still in the Nursing Institute.

Rajbir Singh was sad to see his daughter go but could not withstand Anita’s vehemence.

Seema after successful completion of her training joined the District Hospital. She shifted to a staff quarter of the hospital. Rajbir spent most of his evenings with Seema who had kept herself aloof from the family feud.

Young Rajbaran was the most cared and valued person of Rathore family. Anita took care of him personally and engaged a pair of security guards to protect him whenever he went out of the haveli.

Rajbaran was growing impudent for he got whatever he demanded. He was insolent towards his teachers and misbehaved with his friends. He had acquired the reputation of a rowdy and a bully having no interest in his studies. He always had plentiful of money, which he spent recklessly on his cronies.

Anita was a worried mother realizing that Rajbaran was becoming ill-tempered, arrogant and perfidious.  He would never give fair account of monies given to him; instead he would raise tantrums if persisted. Despite all his angularities, Anita had no heart to deny him anything. Her woes peaked when Rajbaran demanded a sports car. Anita’s appeal and counselling by aging Rajbir Singh were of no avail.

Rajbaran got a car even before he was eligible for a driving licence. Rash driving became his passion. Soon he dropped out of school, joined a political outfit and formed a gang of his own.  He spent most of his time away from home, caring least about his ancestral estate. His mother’s fervent appeals to share her burden in managing the estate didn’t impact him.

Soon Rajbaran was known for his notoriety. The money his mother gave him was not enough to meet his demands. One day he called the estate manager and asked him to remit half of the estate revenues in to his bank account.

The manager was dumbfounded; Anita was deeply distressed but Rajbaran had his way. “You shouldn’t forget. Soon I am going to inherit this property and your future will rest in my hands,” he scolded the manager in front of his mother.

One day the estate manager told Anita that Rajbaran was spending a lot of money on a woman of ill-repute.  Anita was dismayed when she learnt that the woman was several years senior to Rajbaran and had a son from her previous husband. She was desperate to wean Rajbaran away from his new found love but failed. No pleas, no entreaties and no adulations worked.

“Son, think over it again. Your marrying this woman will sully the name of the family. I will find you a beautiful bride,” Anita implored.  

Rajbaran was a possessed man; he ignored his mother’s en5A MALE DESCENDENT AND MOKSHA

(Eternal Liberation of Soul)

Rathore family was happy when Shakuntala was born as the first child of Rajbir Singh Rathore. After religious rituals and havan- a sacrificial oblation to the fire god, the family took the newly born to the village temple and prayed before the goddess for her good fortune and a male sibling after her.

Unfortunately, Rajbir Singh had four more girls after Shakuntala. He was disappointed and so was his octogenarian father, Choudhary Dharambir Singh Rathore.

Rajbir and his father wanted the family name to continue and that was possible only if Rajbir had a male descendent. Besides, the old patriarch also believed that to attain moksha – eternal liberation of soul, the last rites of a deceased ought to be performed by a male descendent. Choudhary Dharambir Singh therefore insisted that Rajbir married again and had a male child from his new wife. Rajbir was reluctant. All his daughters other than Shakuntala were happily settled and financially well off. Rajbir was grateful to god for it.

Unfortunately, Shakuntala’s husband, Shyam Singh turned to be a habitual gambler and an alcoholic. He squandered his ancestral property, remained mostly idle and was dependent on his in-laws. Two years after her marriage, Shakuntala gave birth to a girl child. They named her Seema. Shakuntala, Shyam Singh and their daughter, Seema lived with Rajbir Singh in the ancestral haveli.

Seema grew tall, beautiful and a bright student. She wanted to be a nurse. After completion of her schooling, Choudhary Dharambir Singh got her a seat in the State Nursing Institute.

Rajbir was over fifty but constantly under pressure from his father to remarry. He finally yielded and married Anita, thirty years his junior. Even though the marriage rituals were hastened, the old bridegroom could not avoid scornful comments of the guests.

“At his age, he should have thought of marrying his granddaughter rather than getting married himself,” someone said derisively.

“This is just to ensure that the property remains within the family,” the other quipped.

“Perhaps he thinks a male child will ensure his moksha,” yet another guest mocked.

Rajbir and Choudhary Dharambir Singh were mute listeners.

A year later, Anita gave birth to a male child. Choudhary Dharambir Singh was overjoyed and wanted large scale celebrations on the occasion. Entire village was invited to a feast. Dharambir Singh ensured lavish supply of liquor to the guests. He wanted them to rejoice and to rejoice himself. “Let this be the all-time best,” he told his munimji, the manager. The child was named Rajbaran Singh Rathore.

Rajbaran was three when Choudhary Dharambir Singh left the earthly world after brief illness. In his dying moments, the Choudhary felt assured of a heavenly berth for he knew his son Rajbir was there to perform his last rites.

Rajbir Singh was now old with indifferent health. Anita, the second wife of Rajbir Sigh became the de facto head of the family, which owned a large tract of land and several buildings. But her task of managing the estate was getting difficult with rising demur from Shakuntala and her mother, the first wife of Rajbir Singh..

Soon trouble brewed within the family and finally came to surface with the three women coming at loggerheads over the controlling of the property. Shyam Singh, who never liked Anita, instigated Shakuntala to ask for her share of the property.

Anita opposed the move vehemently.

“You are no longer a part of Rathore family. In fact, you are lucky that you have not been thrown out of the haveli,” she shouted at Shakuntala.

Rajbir was a hapless onlooker. He tried to pacify the two camps but his voice was lost in the din.

A week later, Anita asked Shakuntala to leave the haveli and shift to an adjoining house. “I have told the estate manager to give you two thousand rupees every month to run your household. That is the best you can expect from Rathore family.” She added contemptuously.

“You can’t do that to me. Daughters too have equal right over father’s property. I will take you to the court of law,” Shakuntala protested though she knew she needed someone to assist her in the matter and that her husband was thoroughly incompetent and unreliable.

The family finally split. Shakuntala shifted to the small house given to her by Anita along with Shyam Singh. Seema was still in the Nursing Institute.

Rajbir Singh was sad to see his daughter go but could not withstand Anita’s vehemence.

Seema after successful completion of her training joined District Hospital. She shifted to a staff quarter of the hospital. Rajbir spent most of his evenings with Seema who had kept herself aloof from the family feud.

Young Rajbaran was the most cared and valued person of Rathore family. Anita took care of him personally and engaged a pair of security guards to protect him whenever he went out of the haveli.

Rajbaran was growing impudent for he got whatever he demanded. He was insolent towards his teachers and misbehaved with his friends. He had acquired the reputation of a rowdy and a bully having no interest in his studies. He always had plentiful of money, which he spent recklessly on his cronies.

Anita was a worried mother realizing that Rajbaran was becoming ill-tempered, arrogant and perfidious.  He would never give fair account of monies given to him; instead he would raise tantrums if persisted. Despite all his angularities, Anita had no heart to deny him anything. Her woes peaked when Rajbaran demanded a sports car. Anita’s appeal and counselling by aging Rajbir Singh were of no avail.

Rajbaran got a car even before he was eligible for a driving licence. Rash driving became his passion. Soon he dropped out of school, joined a political outfit and formed a gang of his own.  He spent most of his time away from home, caring least about his ancestral estate. His mother’s fervent appeals to share her burden in managing the estate didn’t impact him.

Soon Rajbaran was known for his notoriety. The money his mother gave him was not enough to meet his demands. One day he called the estate manager and asked him to remit half of the estate revenues in to his bank account.

The manager was dumbfounded; Anita was deeply distressed but Rajbaran had his way. “You shouldn’t forget. Soon I am going to inherit this property and your future will rest in my hands,” he scolded the manager in front of his mother.

One day the estate manager told Anita that Rajbaran was spending a lot of money on a woman of ill-repute.  Anita was dismayed when she learnt that the woman was several years senior to Rajbaran and had a son from her previous husband. She was desperate to wean away Rajbaran from his new found love but to no avail. No pleas, no entreaties and no adulations worked.

“Son, think over it again. Your marrying this woman will sully the name of the family. I will find you a beautiful bride,” Anita implored.  

Rajbaran was a possessed man; he ignored his mother’s entreaties.  

“I am going to marry her,” he was emphatic.

Rajbaran mortgaged a property with a local moneylender, married the woman clandestinely and moved away to another town without informing his mother.

When Rajbir came to know of it, he could not bear the shock; he suffered a paralytic attack and was totally immobilised. 

Seema was appalled to see the condition of her grandfather.

“I am taking him to my hospital. It will be easier for me to look after him there,” Seema told Anita who remained a mute onlooker as the former took away Rajbir Singh to the hospital.

Rajbir’s condition kept deteriorating.  Week later, the family was told by the doctors that the end was near. Anita sent couple of her men to locate Rajbaran and luckily they succeeded and returned with him.

Rajbir died the next day.

As Rajbaran was all set to light the pyre of his father, the family lawyer stepped forward and stopped him.

“Sir, you cannot do that,” the lawyer told him politely.

Rajbaran, all family friends and relatives gathered at the cremation ground were shocked.

 Anita was furious. “Don’t you know he is the only male descendent of the deceased? How can you deny him performing his religious obligation?” She shouted at the lawyer.

“Madam, the deceased has named a different person to perform his last rites,” the lawyer replied while opening the will.

Everyone was astonished for the will read: My last rites should be performed by Seema, my granddaughter.treaties.  

FOR BREATHING FREE

Captain Diwakar Swaroop was twenty four when he met Arundhati Sagar. He was doing his engineering degree course in CME - the College of Military Engineering at Poona now called Pune. Arundhati had just completed her Masters in mathematics and was teaching in a private school. Her father Brigadier Arvind Sagar was Deputy Commandant of the CME. The two met often in the officers’ mess and in the Ranji Singhji Institute, the famous RSI- the rendezvous point for the defence officers in Poona.

Diwakar was very fond of dancing and so was Arundhati. They often paired on the dancing floor; became friends and over the time, intimate ones. Brigadier Anand Sagar liked Diwakar. He knew Diwakar was doing well and had a promising career in the army.

“Arundhati, do you like the bloke?” Brigadier Sagar asked his daughter straight forth, typical of an army officer.  And when Arundhati affirmed, Brigadier Sagar asked his wife to go ahead with their marriage arrangements.

“I may have to move out in couple of months. I want to them to get married before that,” he told his wife.

Captain Diwakar was happily married to the girl of his liking. They had very loving moments in Poona and before Captain Diwakar completed his degree course, Arundhati gave birth to a daughter. They named her Abha – meaning glow. Both of them felt the new born had added a glow in their life. The young couple were extremely happy. They felt it was a heavenly blessing; a God given gift. They loved their daughter immensely.

After completion of his degree course Captain Diwakar was posted to an operational area. Arundhati shifted to ‘separated family quarters’ in the Bombay Engineering Group & Center at Kirkee.

Over the years, Diwakar was promoted as Major, Lieutenant Colonel and finally to the rank of Brigadier as Commandant of the BEG & Center. During the interim spells when Diwakar was posted in the forward area Arundhati took up teaching in her old school because she loved teaching and it kept her busy.

Little Abha had the best of schooling and did her graduation from the prestigious Fergusson College, Poona. Abha was bright, beautiful and charming. In fact, Arundhati had wanted another child but Diwakar was reluctant.

“I don’t want our love to be divided between two kids. Abha is God’s benediction; I want no distraction in bringing her up.”

Thus Abha remained the only child of the Swaroop family. Both the parents were ever eager to meet her demands. Abha had taken to tennis and reached the national level. Diwakar had engaged the best coach for her and Arundhati always accompanied Abha to the stadia and places she had to play. 

It was in one of such tournaments that Abha met Patrick who was a state level player. They played several tournaments together and in some, they played ‘mixed doubles’. Patrick was tall and handsome and an excellent conversationalist. Abha was attracted towards him. Brigadier Diwakar Swaroop was uncomfortable to see Abha getting closer to Patrick. The Swaroops had no knowledge of Patrick’s background since Abha had never given any satisfactory answer whenever they asked her about Patrick. The parents were in for a shock when one evening Abha announced at the dining table that she was planning to marry Patrick.

“You are too young for marriage. Moreover, you have never told us about his family and his background. How are you going to survive?”

“Patrick has applied for a tennis coaching certificate and I have an offer to model for an MNC product.”

Diwakar and Arundhati were stunned. They could not believe that little Abha could have an independent existence; beyond the parental periphery.

“You never told us earlier,” Arundhati asked her.

“Did you ever ask?” Abha was quick to defend.

Yes that was the stark reality. They had let her grow her way, never interfered in her matters. But marriage was a serious matter.

“By the way what product is it and who is the promoter?”

“Papa, how does that matter? They are paying me well and if I am accepted in the market, I will be in demand. And that is what matters.”

The couple was silenced by their little daughter. To their embarrassment they found out that Abha was modelling for a well-known brand of condoms.  

“Mom, modelling is just a profession like any other. There is no breach of morality in selecting a product. Don’t look for me when you see the ad on your TV. Look at me as a model marketing a product.”

A couple of months later Abha was married to Patrick.  It was revealed during the court proceedings that Patrick belonged to Hyderabad where his father worked as a clerk in the treasury office. Patrick had left his parents after his secondary examination and was staying with his uncle in Poona.

Though Swaroops were unsettled by the sudden pace of the event, they arranged an impressive reception in the officers’ mess of the Center. In their private moments, they wished Abha had made a better choice.

Brigadier Diwakar Swaroop retired from service and moved to a cottage he had purchased in Pashaan, a satellite town of Pune.

As a model, Abha was not a big success. Consequently, there were not many offers; typical of the show-world. Patrick worked as part time coach in couple of schools but his income was barely enough to meet his own demands. The young couple was always short of money and would quite often ask Arundhati for help.

 “Please don’t tell papa, Abha would always say with a promise to return the money at the soonest possible. Since that never happened, Arundhati had no option but to keep Diwakar informed. And when Abha had a daughter, Swaroops had to bear all the expenses. In fact, they had to take the newly born baby to their place for Patrick and Abha lived in a small room in a slum area.  The elderly parents took upon themselves all the responsibilities of the newly born including the expenses thereon.

Besides financial burden there was acute time constraint on Swaroops. With the new baby at their hands, they could hardly move out. In good old days they never missed any cultural event in the town and they were still considered the most gracious dancing couple in the officers’ mess. Arundhati who was also fond of classical music and writing poetry had no time for her hobbies. In fact, she had sizeable collection of her poems, which Diwakar wanted to get published after his retirement.

“I want it to gift it to you on our Silver Jubilee,” he had promised Arundhati.

But the little money they had saved was needed for the new baby and to support Abha and Patrick. The situation worsened when a year later they learnt that Abha was again in the family way and to their consternation, Patrick was earning nothing and staying away from Abha for days together.

“Why don’t you ask Abha? After all they should have thought before going for another child. How are they going to manage?

“How are we going to manage?”Arundhati corrected him. Diwakar grimaced. He never thought his loving daughter will bring him to such discomfiture.

The second child birth was more expensive for Abha had developed some pre-natal complications.  Patrick had come for a couple of hours before the child birth and vanished thereafter.  Swaroops had to manage everything including footing of the bill.

 Arundhati realized that Abha was too weak to look after her daughters. Resultantly, she was fully confined within her cottage. From sunrise till late evening and even during nights it became her responsibility to look after Abha and the two babies. All her social visits were shelved. She couldn’t even go to malls for shopping. It was now left to Diwakar to buy grocery from the army canteen or from the Big Bazaar.

Abha’s daughters were growing and they had to be put in a school.  Abha was keen that her daughters were put in the Army Public School.

“Papa, please go to the Station Commander. He was your subaltern at one time. I am sure he will help,” Abha insisted.

Diwakar was reluctant and felt embarrassed to approach the Station Commander for he knew the request was not covered under rules. But on Abha’s persistence he had to yield. It was a saving grace and much relief for Diwakar that his onetime junior honoured his request.

Abha took up a job with a travelling agency. It was a little relief for Swaroops particularly when Patrick was conspicuous by his absence. He often disappeared telling Abha that he was going to his parents.

It was the duty of the old couple to get Nisha and Rita, their granddaughters ready for school; take them to the bus stand and then receive them in the afternoon. And it was an arduous task to make the siblings eat their lunch or make them drink milk for both of them were freak and finicky. Taking them to park in the evening was assigned to Diwakar who hated to abandon his evening walk. Abha would return late in the evening looking tired, which required Arundhati to make dinner.

Abha’s elder daughter Nisha was fifteen now. She was exceptionally beautiful and intelligent. Abha saw the potential of a new-look model in Nisha. She re-established her links with the modelling world and persuaded one of her old friends to take Nisha in his project.  Nisha was good in dialogue delivery with perfect diction. She became an instant success in the ad-world. She was in demand; Abha lost no time to raise her fee. Money started pouring in; a big financial relief to Swaroops.

  Nisha was now a celebrity. The soap opera producers wanted to take her in family serials. Patrick was now handling family matters actively. A room was added to the cottage, which was designed to ensure Nisha’s privacy and Abha engaged a maid to take care of Nisha’s menial comforts. Abha was also quick to realise the difference between her two daughters. With rising popularity and celebrity status of Nisha, her second daughter Rita was developing a complex. To obviate it getting escalated, Abha shifted Rita to a boarding school.

There was a premier of a family soap with Nisha in the lead role. The family was preparing to attend the function. The social media was expected to be in full attendance. Arundhati was in cheerful mood. She was in her sky blue silk sari, which Diwakar had presented her on their silver jubilee. Suddenly Abha rushed in and told Arundhati that there was a problem.

“The producer has given us only four invites and my boss wants to attend with his wife. That would make us seven including  Rita.”

Arundhati was taken aback. She couldn’t believe her ears. She slumped on her bed and then managed to say, “Abha you should have told me earlier in the morning. Both of us have got ready to attend the function.”

“I am sorry Ma. But my boss is very keen. In fact, he has put me in an odd situation. The clown has asked me to introduce him and his wife to the other celebrities,” Abha said with a broad grin.

Arundhati didn’t appreciate the gesture. “Please tell your father...  he will be terribly disappointed.”

Brigadier Diwakar was indeed shocked and pained beyond words.

The premier was a grand success. Abha and all the guests were in high spirits.  On reaching home, she asked her parents to join them over a dinner in a top end fancy restaurant.

“I want to celebrate the occasion. It is a big day for me. God has rewarded me for all my hard work and prayers,” she told the bewildered parents. The evening was a big show. Abha spoke of her woes in bringing up her daughters. “I am happy, my labour has been rewarded in my daughter’s success,” she concluded. There was no mention of Arundhati or Diwakar in Abha’s thanks giving. The old parents were hurt. The dinner closed with Nisha presenting a bouquet to her mother as Arundhati and Diwakar watched from the sides.

Nisha was now a popular actress with Abha as her chaperon. Slowly, Abha took over the control of the household. Arundhati was feeling suffocated in the new realm but Diwakar was adjusting to the new order.  He had to accept it because he was a chronic diabetes patient depending on Abha to take him to doctors and hospitals. Arundhati gradually noticed that she was being ignored not only by Abha but by Diwakar also.  

One evening Arundhati had invited a few friends to tea; they were her old colleagues. The guests had arrived and were being served tea when Abha and Nisha entered with few friends.

 “Ma, can you take your friends to the lobby. I want to talk to these guys in the drawing room. They are important people in the film industry. In fact, I want to clinch a deal for Nisha. It is very important for her.”

“The lobby is equally big to accommodate your guests,” Arundhati suggested. “It will look odd to shift my friends midway,” she added after an awkward pause.   

Abha was adamant. “Ma, these matters have to be handled in privacy and discreetly. The negotiation must remain a closely guarded secret.”

  Arundhati noticed that Diwakar didn’t utter a word of demur. This offended her more than the embarrassment caused by Abha before her friends. She apologised to her guests and took them to the balcony of her room and   kept her cool till they left but the humiliation was too much to bear. She quietly retired to her room; Diwakar was eager to find out the outcome of Abha’s meeting.

Next morning Arundhati surprised everybody. She was ready with her suitcase. As Diwakar came out of the wash room she said, “Diwakar, I am going to Ranikhet; want to stay there for some time.”

“Why suddenly? It is winter, Ranikhet will be very cold.”

“I know but I feel suffocated here. I must go.”

‘For how long?” Diwakar was getting nervous.

“I am not sure,” she whispered and after an uneasy pause added, “The fact is, I can’t stand the ignominy anymore. But you are free to stay back.”

Diwakar was unnerved.

“Arundhati please understand. You know my predicament. I need medical help on day to day basis. I have to go to doctors and hospital every now and then. I have diabetes and high blood pressure and I already had a stroke... I need regular checkups. There are hardly any facilities in Ranikhet. Please think it over again,” he pleaded.

“I am aware of your health condition.  You don’t have to accompany me but please don’t stop me. I am dying every moment of my life before my natural death. I want to breathe freely.”

Diwakar watched helplessly as Arundhati left her family after an association of over thirty years.

II

Years have rolled past. Arundhati is old and infirm, living a lonely life in a small cottage in the hill town of Ranikhet, which is around six thousand feet above the sea level. The town is lush green, picturesque and free from pollution but cold for a woman in her sixties.

Arundhati stays in-door until the sun comes vertically over her cottage. There is a small kitchen garden and an orchard in front of her cottage where she passes her long dreary hours. The orchard has apple, pears and apricot trees. Arundhati loves watching these trees shedding leaves during fall and blossoming in spring.

She is an old patient of osteoporosis; in fact, her legs have buckled inwards; walking is a painful exercise for her, which worsens in winters.  She has therefore engaged a part time help from a neighbouring village to cook for her and look after her household. 

Despite her failing health, she is compassionate and helpful. Spares an hour or so daily, teaching the village children and in some cases helps them buy school books and stationery. A year back when she learned that the mathematics teacher of the government school had retired and his replacement had not joined, she taught the students during the remaining academic session without any recompense. She was more than happy that they sincerely acknowledged her help.   

“I always loved teaching and I am happy I could help these poor children save their academic year. Gives me immense happiness  that no pecuniary gain or words can substitute.”

Often people who know her background ask her, “You belong to a renowned, opulent family. Why did you opt for your present arduous life?”

Arundhati simply smiles but says nothing.

I have chosen this path for breathing free. I wanted to live my own life. She speaks to her inner soul.

AVENGING THE DEAD PARENTS

It was a cold month of January and it was a full moon day, considered to be an auspicious by the Hindus

for propitiating gods. On this day, Ramchandra Jagtap and his wife Rajanibai had come to the famous temple of goddess Mandher Devi in the Satara district of Maharastra.

Ramchandra Jagtap was a farmer from Achera village of Igatpuri sub division of Nashik district where he owned a piece of land and a small orchard of oranges. Besides, he grew maize, millet and onion and other seasonal vegetables, which was good enough for leading an austere village life. Ramchandra Jagtap and Rajanibai were quite religious. It was after eleven years of their marriage that they were blessed with a daughter. It could have been because of prolonged treatment in a fertility clinic but the couple sincerely believed that it was a divine benediction. Ramchandra was happy to have a daughter and named her Aparna, a synonym of the goddess. The couple decided to visit the abode of the goddess with their newly born daughter to pay their obeisance to the goddess to express their gratitude.

There was a big crowd of devotees queuing on the ascending hill track going to the temple. The devotees had started arriving since wee hours. They were carrying flowers, sweets and gifts to be offered to the goddess. Some women were holding infants close to their bosoms and some children were tagging along their parents. And a few devotees were dragging sacrificial goats to propitiate the goddess. The temple hill had come to life with loud incantation of goddess Mandher Devi by men, women and children and deafening sound by scores of drum beaters. It was a super jamboree of humanity; everyone was zealous and enthused. 

Then, misfortune descended on the temple hill as a gas cylinder exploded in a make-shift shop, engulfing the cluster of temporary shops. No one could ever imagine that the auspicious day would turn out to be the most horrible day in the annals of the temple. With strong wind blowing the shops were gutted in no time. The devotees moving around the shops cried for help but in vain. Thirty of them were charred beyond recognition. Panic was writ large on pilgrims’ faces and the worst followed. The mile long queue along the hill track broke down as the devotees scampered for safety. It was total mayhem resulting in a stampede. The strong trampled the old and the weak; women and children were the worst affected. Over two hundred lives were lost in the frightful chaos. Ramchandra and his wife Rajanibai were amongst the dead. Five months old Aparna fell apart from her mother’s lap landing on a shrub of wild berries. She was badly bruised but survived miraculously and found in an unconscious state by the rescue team after ten hours.

Ramchandra Jagtap was the only son of his parents. His elder sister was widowed and lived as a recluse in a distant village. Ramchandra Jagtap and Rajanibai thus departed from this world without discharging their obligation towards the goddess and leaving their five month old daughter in no one’s care. 

Sadashiv Rao was a close friend of Ramchandra Jagtap. They came from same village. Sadashiv Rao was a small time politician and the president of the village panchayat. Contracts falling under government’s social security programmes were awarded to him or his nominees with the blessings of the political bosses. The district authorities were aware of his political clout and therefore refrained from crossing his path. 

Sadashiv Rao was a widower. He volunteered to take the responsibility of the child under his care.
“I am a close friend of the deceased and will take care of the child. He even went a step further. “I will deposit the sale proceeds of Ramchandra Jagtap’s farm produce after every crop in a bank account in the name of Aparna and hand over the same when she becomes a major.” 

“The child needs a woman’s love and care. We therefore cannot agree to place her under your care.” The court decreed, accepting only the second half of his plea and ordered to put Aparna in the care of the Children Home at Igatpuri, near Nashik.

II

Rajnikant and Kavita, both engineering graduates were colleagues working for Cairns India at Nashik. They were married for nine years but had no issue. The couple finally decided to adopt a child and in that, Kavita wanted it to be a girl child. They went to the Children Home at Igatpuri and saw Aparna there. The couple was moved, in fact, fascinated by little Aparna in their first visit and filed an application for her adoption. 

Sadashiv Rao, a trustee of the Children Home was happy that the couple had selected Aparna preferring her over other male children. He facilitated and accelerated the adoption process. When the entire proceeding was completed, Aparna was less than two years old. 

Rajnikant and Kavita were proud of Aparna; they dotted on her. Aparna was indeed a bright and beautiful child. Her teachers loved her and so did the neighbours. The three comprised a happy family. 

As chance would have it, Rajnikant and Kavita got an international assignment to work in Bosnia under the World Food Programme. They were happy to land an international job though they worried that Aparna would miss her friends. But for better prospects and lure of money they accepted the assignment and when they left Nashik, Aparna was a bubbly girl of five years. When Sadashiv Rao came to know of it, he was awfully pleased to see the back of the family for he always cherished the plan of arrogating the property of his late friend. Aparna’s going abroad added wings to his dreams. 

One day Sadashiv Rao went to the land revenue office and ascertained the land details of late Ramchandra Jagtap. He started cultivating the officers of the revenue department with occasional gifts and favours. Finally, with his political clout and huge bribe, he succeeded in getting the land and the orchard of late Ramchandra Jagtap mutated in his name by forging the documents. Thus, Sadashiv Rao became the owner of the land and orchard that once belonged to Ramchandra Jagtap. Aparna, the rightful successor was oblivious of the deceit and treachery perpetrated by the friend of her father. 

Rajnikant and Kavita were worried over Aparna’s education, which was not possible in Bosnia. There were no good schools in the country seized of civil strife. They therefore looked for a change of job. Luckily, a year later, Rajnikant got a job offer at Toronto. The family moved to Canada and after couple of years decided to settle down there.

III

Years rolled. Aparna was now seventeen; charming and beautiful, kind and affable. Her parents loved her and she was popular among her friends. Rajnikant and Kavita thought she was matured enough to know about her past. 

“You are a grown up girl now. We thought it was time that we told you of your past,” Rajnikant told her one evening. Aparna was curiously vexed as they unfolded the story.

“We picked you from the Children Home at Igatpuri. As per their records, you are the daughter of Ramchandra Jagtap and Rajanibai. They both died in a stampede in Mandher Devi temple. You were merely five months old then.” 

Aparna was distraught but accepted her past gracefully. But now she was keen to see her place of birth, the village of her parents. After completing her school, Aparna opted for sociology at the under graduate level. One evening, she told her foster parents that she was joining a group of students who were going to India for three months under an ‘Exchange Programme’ sponsored by Indo-Canadian Society for Cultural Relations.

“The students will stay with Indian families. I have opted to work in Nashik,” she told them. They were aware of her keenness to trace her roots. 

Shivaji Rao, a young business man from Nashik agreed to host Aparna. He was rich and ostentatious; owned a chain of tourist lodges and large tracts of farm land in the nearby villages. He was a suave, handsome and good conversationalist; popular among ladies though he had separated from his wife on the ground of incompatibility. 

He was the son of Sadashiv Rao.

Shivaji Rao loved wine, women and wealth. Aparna appealed to him. In fact, whenever he saw her in shorts and tea shirts, revealing her curvaceous figure, he was overly excited. He was desperate to win her favor. He treated her lavishly; taking her to exclusive restaurants and giving her expensive gifts. 

Aparna too was impressed by Shivaji Rao and liked his company. She often spent her evenings with him, eliciting information about people and events of the region. She moved around during day time meeting people and talking to them. She also visited the Mandher Devi temple. 

One day she asked Shivaji Rao whether she had heard of Ramchandra Jagtap. 

Shivaji Rao was surprised. “How do you know him?” 

“I heard of him from my father.” 

“Well! Ramchandra Jagtap and my father were good friends. Both came from Achera village. Unfortunately, Ramchandra died in a stampede at Mandher Devi temple. He had mortgaged his property to repay the loan he had taken from my father.”

Aparna was saddened to hear the story but deep in her heart, she was skeptical; not accepting its veracity. She decided to visit Achera to find out the truth. She didn’t reveal her plan to Shivaji Rao.

In Achera, Aparna met many villagers; elders and young ones. She had carried freebies for them. The women folk were moved to tears when they learnt that she was the daughter of late Ramchandra Jagtap and Rajanibai. 

“They were a decent couple and quite well off. You father was a hardworking and a progressive farmer and a very helpful person. After the death of your father, Sadashiv Rao forged documents and bribed the revenue officers to usurp your property. Because of his political clout, we are scared of him and his goons,” they told her. 

Aparna was grieved when she knew the truth. She was agonized that Sadashiv Rao, a friend of her late father had deceived him. She returned to Nashik resolute to avenge her parents. I have no interest in the land and property but I must avenge my dead parents. She vowed. 

Shivaji Rao was happy and excited to see Aparna back. I must win her over, whatever that takes. He was determined. Next evening he invited her to his place; Aparna obliged. Shivaji Rao offered her whiskey, an exclusive brand. Aparna accepted that too. The intoxicant had its effect on Shivaji Rao; Aparna’s revealing contours heightened his urge. He held her hand and wheedled her to stay with him. 

“I will give you a bungalow to stay and put a large sum of money in your bank account. I promise you all worldly comforts,” he implored. Aparna merely smiled and made another drink for him. Soon Shivaji Rao swooned in to oblivion. Aparna returned to her room.

Next evening, it was a retake of the previous day and it became a daily fixture. Shivaji Rao would fiddle with her body but fall short of his intended objective under the influence of alcohol. But there was an apparent development; Shivaji Rao wanted more and more of her company and more and more of whiskey from her. 

Aparna knew it was only a matter of time that Shivaji Rao became a captive of his weakness. She extended her stay in Nashik by couple of months.

Shivaji Rao was desperate for her company. “Aparna, I can’t live without you; I love you and want to marry you,” Shivaji Rao repeatedly pleaded before her. He was mostly in an inebriated condition, unable even to stand on his feet. 

This was the time when Sadashiv Rao, the wily father had delegated his responsibilities to his only son, Shivaji Rao and proceeded on a long pilgrimage. He was happy that he had completed the circumambulation of Pundharpur, the holy place successfully. All through his pilgrimage, he prayed for the wellbeing of his son. 

On his return, Sadashiv Rao was in for a shock. His servants told him that Shivaji Rao had been spending most of his evenings in the company of a Canadian girl of Indian origin. He saw Shivaji Rao in a pathetic condition and was deeply distressed to know that his son had become an alcoholic. 

Shivaji Rao a feeble man now, wept before his father. “Please persuade her not to leave me... I am guilty but the fact is, I cannot live without her... please give whatever she wants... please...” Shivaji Rao couldn’t continue further. Sadashiv Rao couldn’t hold his tears as he embraced his son. 

Next morning Sadashiv Rao knocked at Aparna’s room. Aparna opened the door for him. 

“So, you are the bitch who has ruined the life of my son. You seduced him with your body charm and made him an alcoholic. I will kill you for that,” he was furious. 

“Will that bring back your son?” Aparna was defiant. 

“Why did you do that? You have nearly killed him. What harm has he done you?” 

“Sadashiv Rao! I don’t want your son to die. Instead, I want you to suffer, to repent for your sins. That will be fair retribution.” 

“What sins? What retribution? What are you talking?” Sadashiv Rao was enraged.

“Do you remember Ramchandra Jagtap?” 

Sadashiv Rao was stupefied by the question. He paused and then said, “Yes. He was from my village. We were good friends. So what?
          “I am his daughter. You claim to be his friend and yet you deceived him. You forged documents and usurped his entire property.” 

Sadashiv Rao was shocked. He found himself defenceless. Tears rolled down his eyes. He was apologetic, “Please take back all the property but don’t leave my son.” 

“Sadashiv Rao you cannot reverse the clock. You cheated a dead friend. You did that for your son. I want to ensure that he is too debilitated to reap the fruits of your deceit.”
         

Sadashiv Rao fell on his knees. “Please punish me but don’t forsake my son... please. He will not survive without you.” 

Sadashiv Rao was a broken man altogether. 

“I didn’t have any knowledge of my father’s property and in any case, I don’t want it. I only wanted to avenge my dead parents.” 

And after a pause she added, “I am returning to my parents leaving the property and your beleaguered son with you.” 

Then looking at him disdainfully, she walked out of the house; hailed a taxi and left for the airport.