While writing this story I tried to depict a different era. I was trying to write about a woman who was born around the 40's/50's. I dont know if I have been able to do that. Please read with caution, reading this story might lead to disappointment! :)

Swopnil’s eyes went wide with excitement when he saw his birthday gift. Though there had not been a party or a lot of presents, his mom had managed to get him the best gift any child could ask for! It was a bicycle that he had wanted ever since he saw it on TV. It was embarrassing to run around his friends when they were off riding in their showy new bikes. Some friends would be good enough to give him a ride at times, but he had to be on foot most of the times. He would get tired and famished, but he did not want to be left behind to play on his own. He had begged and pleaded his mom for a bicycle, but she always had excuses. He knew his mom could not afford a lot of things but he wanted a bicycle with all his heart. He would cry himself to sleep when his mom ignored his plea one more time. He hated to be humiliated by his friends and his mother did not understand the humiliation!.. She had finally fulfilled his wishes after months of pleading with her. He slept peacefully that night, satisfied that he had finally received what he had wanted. He slept on as his mother came to his room and kissed him at the dead of night. She smiled as she looked at his peaceful face, and gazed at her ring finger which was now devoid of her wedding ring. A small price to pay for her son’s happiness!

Bhagwati was born in a lower-middle class Nepali family in Chitwan that believed in educating a girl. Her mother was a beautiful woman with a soft smiling face. Her father on the other hand, was a short stout man who had eyes of an eagle, and a big round nose. Bhagwati seemed to have inherited both of their looks. She had a plain face with sunken eyes and a slightly big nose. She was short and slim with spotless fair skin. At a first look, people would see a plain short girl who was a disappointment to her gorgeous mother, but when they saw her smile, they would be speechless. Her smile seemed to brighten her whole face and soften her sharp features. Her eyes twinkled and smiled along with her lips, which made her look like a young carefree girl.

She had led a happy and educated life. She was one of the top students in her school and was interested in subjects such as accounting and history. She passed SLC with first division and joined I Com. immediately. She had dreams of becoming an accountant, but knew that her parents could not afford her education. She was sure that if she tried harder, she could get a scholarship for college. With positive incentive in her mind, she worked harder to complete her degree. She had passed her first year with 85% and was on the verge of giving her second year exam. It was her last day of school before exams. She reached home after school and found some guests waiting for her. Being a dutiful daughter, she went straight to the kitchen.

“Nanu, I am so glad that you are finally back from school,” her mother looked relieved. She was making some tea and halwa for the guests. “Go change into a nice saree and entertain our guests in the living room please.”

She obliged and went to the living room after changing, where she found her father sitting with five other guests. There was an elderly looking couple, Mr. Rameshwor Sharma and Mrs. Sarala Sharma with two of their sons and a daughter. They all looked at her with inspecting eyes as she walked in and Sarala gave her a nod. Rameshwor was chewing some tobacco vigorously while talking to her father.
“So, how old is she?” Rameshwor’s voice was muffled by the tobacco in his mouth.

“She is going to complete her 18th year in two months Sharma sahab,” her father replied with his head bowed.

“Our Ramesh is 28 now and Sandesh is 25. As Ramesh is the older son, you would agree that he is the first on line?” Some of the tobacco juice oozed out of his mouth as he spoke. He took a white handkerchief out of his coat pocket and wiped his mouth.

“Whatever sounds good to you.”

Bhagwati’s heart started racing but she remained seated.

“So,” Sarala gestured towards her. “Do you know how to cook and do house chores?”

“Yes, I do,” she said without looking up.

“Hmm, your mother says that you are going to school. Our Ramesh passed his IA when he was 22 and helps his father in the farm now.”

Not knowing what to do, Bhagwati shook her head.

“We are modern parents. We want our son to decide about his own marriage so we think he should have a chance to talk to the girl.” Rameshwor said in his muffled screechy voice.

“Sure, sure,” her father muttered and got to his feet. “They can go outside to the balcony and talk for a few minutes. Nanu, will you take Ramesh sahab to the balcony please?”

Bhagwati got up and led the way with Ramesh following at her heels. Neither spoke for a few minutes. Bhagwati was fiddling with the tulsi plant that was planted outside to be worshipped.

“I really don’t want to get married, but my mother insists that she needs help around the house,” Ramesh began. “I just want to tell you that you don’t appeal me…”

Bhagwati felt so relieved that she looked directly at Ramesh with a bright smile. For a minute she had thought that she could see her dreams slipping away from her grasp, but if he did not marry her, her dreams could still come true. Ramesh looked at her face and his face mirrored a shock that he felt. It seemed like the smile had transformed her into a different girl! A radiant pair of eyes were staring back at him and he felt adrenaline pump through his body. He cleared his voice and steadied himself.

“But…” he said surprising both of them. “I agree that it is time for me to get married and I think you would be a good match for me.”

Her whole life came down crashing in front of her. She knew she was a burden to her parents and every other girl of her age was married. She just had not seen herself get married so abruptly. She felt numb as she walked back inside the living room. Ramesh whispered something in his father’s ears. Rameshwor spit the tobacco in his handkerchief and grinned. His blackened teeth made him look repulsive.

“My son has finally agreed to wed. Congratulations to all involved! Now let’s talk about the dowry and fix the dates shall we?”

Bhagwati excused herself and went to her bedroom. Her life was over and so were her dreams. She took her books out of her bag and placed them in her drawer. She looked at her books lovingly like a mother would look at her child, before she closed the drawer and locked it. There was no need to study for finals, she would not be needing the scholarship after all.

She entered a loveless marriage when she was 18 years old. She woke up at 4 a.m. everyday, went to get some water from the well in the backyard, bathed, washed her husband’s feet while he was still in bed and drank the water. Then she proceeded to do the endless chores that were in store for her. Her brother in law would not wake up unless she took a cup of tea to his bed, her father in law needed his clothes and water to bathe with by 6 a.m. in the morning, and her mother in law would not eat any food cooked by anyone else. She cooked, washed the dishes, washed the clothes, took care of everyone’s clothes and cleaned the whole house by herself. Be it summer or winter, she did it all with cold water, and no one asked her how her day went in the evening. But Bhagwati never complained.

Her husband would leave the house early in the morning and come back late in the evening. He would either be working in the farm, or go out with his friends. The only intimate times she spent with him were during the nights when no words were spoken. She was as dutiful in bed as she was out of it. She listened to orders, obeyed them, and kept her words to herself.

Two years after her wedding, she found out that she was pregnant. Everyone in the family was overjoyed. The first grandchild of the family was about to arrive. For the first time after her wedding she was being treated like a family member. She was not allowed to work, Sarala would cook healthy food for her to eat and her parents would visit frequently. Around the eighth month of her pregnancy, there was a flu spreading rapidly all over village. She was not allowed to go out of her room because everyone was scared that she might catch the flu and harm the baby. The only human contact that she had was when Sarala brought her food to eat or when Ramesh came to bed at nights. She was longing for someone to talk to or even for some chores to do.

She was about eight and a half months pregnant when Ramesh did not return to bed one night. She was up all night waiting for him but he did not return. Next day when Sarala came to give her food, she asked her about the whereabouts of her husband.

“Ramesh came back home yesterday afternoon with a very bad headache and now he has a blazing fever. We think he has the flu, so he should not come in here because you might catch it and give it to the baby. Just get some rest; you will see him when he gets better.” With that Sarala left her to a solitary life.

After a week Bhagwati gave birth to her baby boy “Swopnil” after 20 hours of labor. He was the most beautiful thing she had seen all her life. The house seemed to be filled with people who came to see the new born baby. Rameshwor pronounced the baby his “crown prince” and people were taking turns holding “the little Krishna.” Despite all the happiness and chaos in the house, Ramesh was nowhere to be seen. “He is still sick,” she was told. “But he is getting better by the day.” She went to sleep that day with a smile on her face. It was the happiest moment of her life.

She woke up with a start next morning when the door opened with a bang.

“You Devil!!” Sarala shouted as she snatched Swopnil from his bed and ran outside to the backyard. “Devil, you ate my son as soon as you were born!” Her face was soaked with tears that were flowing down heavily. “My Ramesh, only 31, what had he done to you?”

Bhagwati ran after her and took Swopnil out of her hands before she could throw him in the well.

“What are you doing, aama?” Bhagwati shouted in bewilderment.

“This devil… ate my son. My Ramesh… only 31… is no more. The devil took his life… He’ll kill the rest of the family… too. He must be destroyed…” she could hardly talk between her sobs.

Bhagwati could not believe her ears. “Aama, what are you saying?”

“Ramesh is dead,” Sandesh spoke from behind. “The flu killed him. He was doing better till last night, but this morning when aama went to his room, he was dead. Your son killed his own father. He was doing better before this devil was born. Guru says that the baby is cursed. We don’t want a cursed baby in this house; we need to kill him before he kills us.” His voice was as cold as ice.

“No.” Bhagwati shouted in misery. “I am not going to let you kill him. He is the only one that I have left now.”

“Then leave this house with your baby and don’t show us your faces again.” Sarala shouted with all her might. “Your pathetic face will only remind me of my lovely son. The mother and child killed my son. Oh god what had we done to deserve this?” Sarala’s face twisted in agony as she began to sob harder.

Bhagwati started to run to her room, and hesitated. She could not help the tear from sliding down her face as she added, “can I see him one last time?”

“I will not let your shadow fall on his corpse. I should have never let him marry you!! Go away as soon as you can. Oh my young young boy…..” she continued shouting as Bhagwati ran to her room to pack.

She took a last look at the house and at her marriage and left both forever. She went to her parents’ home and started looking for a job. Due to her education, she got a job as a tuition teacher for younger kids. Time passed by at her parents’ house and Swopnil was 6 years old. Bhagwati wanted him to have the best education, so she started applying for jobs in the city. After a few months of searching, she got hired as a teacher for students from grade one to grade five. She admitted Swopnil in a good school and persuaded him to study hard. She did not want her son to suffer due to the lack of education like she had.

As Swopnil grew older, so did his needs and demands. A teacher in a day school did not get paid enough. Her parents would send her money at times, but they were not wealthy enough to help her periodically. She started selling her jewelry to get things for Swopnil. Gradually when all her possessions were sold, she started working in the evenings as a tuition teacher. There were days when she would not sleep all night thinking about all the bills that had to be paid. She would often cry and pray to god for a better life, but sadly god did not listen. With one job in the morning and another in the evening, and Swopnil to take care of, years flew by like days. Swopnil had inherited her brains and did very good in school. He topped his district in SLC exams and was board 9th on his +2 exams. Once he completed his high school, he went to Kathmandu to look for a college.

There was a special scholarship program offered by the Indian government that allowed five students to go to India to study. Swopnil gave an exam for the scholarship and went to India for further studies. The scholarship took care of his tuition, boarding and air fare two times a year. Bhagwati was seeing her dream come true through her son. God was finally listening to her.


“Aama,” Swopnil shouted as he rushed inside the front door of his house. Bhagwati was 64 years old now. All the years of hard work showed on the wrinkled face and hands. Her small frame looked even smaller. Half of her hair had turned gray. Her eyes had started failing her, so she had to wear bifocal glasses all the time. She was playing cards with her 15 year old grad daughter who had a tendency to cheat in cards.

“Swopnil, I am in my room. Whats the matter?” Bhagwati’s eyes never left her cheating grand daughter as she spoke.
“Aama, I hope you pray long and hard for me each morning.” Swopnil came to her room with a playful glint in his eyes.

“What are you saying? Of course I pray for you. Why do you say that?” She looked suspiciously at her son.

“Because aama, all the students of Purbanchal University are going to curse me from now on, so I need all the prayers I can get! My book just got published and Purbanchal University has decided to use it for its accounting class. I wanted you to have the first copy.” Swopnil slid a new hard covered book to Bhagwati’s hand.

Bhagwati adjusted her glasses and looked at the book. She touched all four sides of the book before opening it. A tear slid down her face, followed by many others. The first page of the book read, “To my mother, the most beautiful soul in this world. Without her selfless love I would not have existed (literally).”

“Why is hajuraama crying?” the 15 year old Sakshi asked with shocked eyes.

“Because my dear child, I have lived my dream today and not many people can do that.” There was affection and satisfaction in her voice. She held the book close to her chest and wiped the tears of happiness away.

Very nice story Rythm..

Thanks MohanB, I suprised myself by writing twice within a few days!! I was brought up in different places and have heard stories from all over so I have an idea of how it must have been! This is actually the first time I wrote about something different. Phew! Its a relief tht I did not stink at it!

Great work Rythm. It was a very touching story (and so was your previous one). Khelne haina true and false? Dherai po bho ta nakheleko.

Rythm ji,

Very well written story. Relly felt it. Little note though, if you were trying to portray 50s/60s, you might not want to mention finishing hightschool after finishing 10+2. Remember there were no 10+2 that time. You might be too young to remember this.

Cmon Rhythm, you never stink, all of us here love your stories. You could write about someone based solely on what you heard, thats a good thing.

i would not say that this is the best work that u have done, worth a read though......
m sorry if i tend to incline a bit towards critique but its jus to better u or may i say to better u than u already r rite now......n m known better for my critics than my appreciations :D...
i can find contradictions within the story itself, washing her husbands feet n drinking the same water n then her son taking the +2 classes, development too soon, dont u think? and some other stuffs... there is a slight glitch in depicting the time that u wanted to.......
but i did like the part where the boy changes his mind after seeing her smile n the last part where he hands the first copy of his book to bhagwati........somethin almost fell out of my eyes ;)
this is the storyline of a classic nepali film...a hit one though :P
weazel

sndy sis, thanks a lot:)

chipledhunga, thanks for reading the story. I know I miss the true and false. It was a great thread. Lots of fun. Do you think we should do it one more time? :)

Kina_kina ji, I really appreciate your note. Like I said I tried to potray it, but I dont know if I got everything right. I tried to imagine my mom and my grandmom and tried to think how it was for them. I have no idea how things really were, just heard a lot of things from my mom. Thanks a lot for reading.

mohanB, awww thanks for the confidence. :) I wish I could be confident about myself as much.

weazel, I tried for the first time to do something different, and maybe I could not do my best at it. There might be contradictions, maybe I should have done some research first but to be truthful, I wrote the story in two of my classes. I was bored with nothing to do. Next time I will certainly do more research! And well, I dont know if you know this, but a lot of people washed their husband's feet and drank that water till a decade ago (many might still do it in rural areas). Thats a part of our tradition that might still co-exist with education. You know how there are medieval traditions in the most developed countries! But of course I stand to be wrong about the +2, as kina_kina pointed out. :) Thanks a lot for reading and commenting.

Getting all of your feedbacks lets me know about my weakness and helps me improve. I want to thank all of you one more time. :)

Rhytm,
Disgusting!!!...............No-No not your story :), Sarala, her husband and son. If i were bhagwati, I would have killed them all.

 I believe most of the womens( infact all) in the rural parts of Nepal are still compelled to live such life. May god grant them power to fight against such injustice.

Good work, keep it up!

 

rythm sis! guess wat?no not that!yeah!i read it all..at last!hehe

and enjoyed it immensely :oD...i just followed the flow..and it really flowed i tell u!(and no im not being bias hehe)...

i might try to deny that im a sucker for happy endin ;oP hehe..but guess im in that weird mood now(the magic of havin a bit of alcohol in ur system eh?;oP and also a soothin song playin as im typing :oD) so yeah lovely ending and if only this came true to lots and lots of ppl :oD...

and i guess u "forgot" to add about the part of the bright smile bhagwati smiled and displayed as tears of happiness flowed outta her warm eyes..the smile hadnt lost any gloss and sheen thru the sands of time :oD..well i dunno i couldnt stop imagin that smile and it made me smile too hehe..ok better stop typin cos i will be mistaken by many of tryn to act "cute" :oS like i would try doing that!ewwww!!!hehe

am lookin foward to more(no expectations tho so dun feel pressurised re kya ;oP hehe)

take care!:oD

ps u shud take some preventive measures!im worried for u!cos u just might be "blamed" for making killers out of some ppl like ^ hehe

Rythm,
You are aware of what change a smile can make , although it didn't turned fortunate for Bhagwati. Don't you think that use of name "Sandesh" is an anachronism?
SunnyDev

.Touching..liked it..keep coming Rythm..:-)

Very nice story. Good job.
Your story gives insight into the lives of many Nepali chelibetis, who suffer because of the attitude of their parents and the society. It depicts the level of ignorance among the people in rural areas, which constitute more than 60% of Nepali population.
Very well done. This inspires me to go back to Nepal and help people get out of misery.

Thanks all for reading it. I tried to do something different and I see a lot of errors and some problem with the flow with this story.

I swear I'd responded to this thread when you first wrote it but its not there anymore (??). Did you delete it Rythm?

I actually immersed myself into this story when I read it back then and I still rememeberjust having called home that night which made the story even more dearer to me. It just brough about all the sacrifices my mom did for me and my siblings back in da days...And it was a lot, my friend!! Thanks for the great read. I loved it and pls do keep writing (I'm positive someone deleted my thread as I remember responding to this one earlier).

And about the errors you talk about, hell no!! Its you trying to be a perfectionist as I just don't see one (and I AM THE ULTIMATE PERFECTIONIST YOU'LL EVER COME ACROSS).

Samsara, I promise I never deleted a thing!! Maybe there was an error when you posted it because I never saw your response. Thanks for the responding though. About my errors, as Kina Kina pointed out, there was so +2 at the time I am trying to write the story about. Some one also pointed out that I rushed the story and such. And as someone pointed out there were contradictions and so on! I am glad that you enjoyed it... I guess I was thinking about my mom too when I wrote this piece!

Very touching story Rythm. Glad that her son realised his mother's hardships.

Touching indeed!!

nails touchin re?i think for a person with ur nick.."SCRATCHING"!!! might sound more "appropiate" ?haha ;oP..just messin :oD...

any idea where our dear indi bro has gone?im sure lots of ppl still cant get over him?indi bro u readin?just sayn hi..dun worry dun expect any response ..hope all is well :oD

This is my read for tomorrow...:) Till then. Nighty night.

Rythm...good going . You are on your way to being a good writer..slowly but surely . :)Bhagwati and Sarala both embody our culture as it is even to this day. Tragic innit?