Garima - Who lived with Pride and Dignity

The flight touches ground, each one of us unfastens the seat belts, take out the hand baggage and impatiently wait in a queue for each other’s turn to get out. I finally take out my head out of the aircraft and take the first sniff of that air. The air that makes me nostalgic whenever I come home.  The crew smile at us and let all of us slog in that bus towards the terminal. We all have no time and are in such a hurry that it irritates us to even visit the wash room. Finally checked in luggage is received and I hop into a cab that will take me home.

When the cab was about to take the turn near our lane, I notice a chaos and too many people at Garima aunty’s place. I had always called that as Garima aunty’s haunted house. That lady who had made a mark for herself all on her own. She would move mountains for woman empowerment, would become the mother for the orphans, would go all her way to take care of the stray dogs. You name any social reform, any service to the society and its people, she would definitely be a part of it. She did not make much fortune but she had won hearts and was respected by everyone in that place of ours. I reach home and ask my mother, “I saw so many people in front of Garima aunty’s place. Is she planning to run for elections, this time?” My mother informs me that she passed away a few days back.

I remember going through these very lanes during my younger days, sometimes walking and sometimes running. And, before I could reach my home, I would see Garima aunty watering her plants in front of that haunted house of hers. She would smile and ask how my day was, how college was, etc. I had always wondered how that smile in her wrinkly face and twinkling eyes always made me stop and say hello and do a small chit chat with her despite my busy, unstoppable running around the clock time table and schedule. I had even told my sister that she hypnotizes me.

I knew I had to make a visit to her place. I knew she was not there anymore but still there was something which was calling me. So, after I freshened up, I rush towards her house to bid her a farewell. I reach her place and see some people discussing about the ceremonies to be held for her death. I also see a man, may be in his fifties, sitting on the floor wearing a dhoti with his head shaved off. Someone introduced me to him as her son. I found out there is a daughter as well. Their spouses were also present and I was even introduced to a few grandchildren. I was appalled to see so many people. I was not only shocked, I was shaken deeply, and I was kind of reeling inside. Where were these people all the while, why was the lady staying alone all her life in that shack of a haunted house? I could not take it anymore, after I exchanged a few pleasantries, I turned and rushed back home.

I reached home and started crying my heart out. I do not know what made me cry like that but I felt as if I was stabbed at my back. My mother looked at my heart broken stance and sat beside me. She started telling me about the woman. Who was Garima and what was she made off?

Those days’ daughters were not considered worthy of education and were never considered equal to sons. Her parents were also not different. She was married off to an older and richer person at a tender age of 16. She bore him children at a very young age too. Her husband used to beat her after getting drunk every day and night and being a rich person used to frequently visit brothels and she was supposed to endure everything without uttering any word. However, due to some unfortunate events, all four of her brothers died one after another, leaving behind her ailing parents. She struggled and tried very hard to look after her parents which was not allowed by her husband’s family as it is inappropriate for a woman to neglect her wifely duties and disobey her husband. After her father died, she could take it no more and left her husband to look after her mother. That day on wards, she was considered an evil for this society. Her husband and his family never accepted her back and forbidden her to meet her children and her children also never tried to see her as she was the one who had left her husband.

I had tears oozing out of my eyes and I asked my mother, “Did she ever miss her children? Why didn’t she ever try to mend fences with her children at least, may be after her husband died? How could she live all alone?” My mother replied straight into my eyes and her words cut deep through my core, “She was happier here”. And, today when I am penning down these words, I can still feel that warm smile and twinkling eyes of my Garima aunty.