A widow was forgotten by society. It was both a boon and a curse. Kalyani managed to hide her face in her soiled Thaan, draped around her sweaty body, as she looked up at the horizon. She had been walking for a day now, begging for food and water. She was sure her family did not survive the fire and the attack. Whoever did it to them, she was not sure they were wrong. The only people she shed tears for were Abhaya and Niranjan. She felt guilty about not feeling sad. But she was saved by God’s grace. Everything had a reason, and she needed to find hers. She was supposed to stay the night at one of the village gatherings of the Baishnavs, chanting the names of Radha, Krishna and Chaitanya through the night. There was chaos in the peace of the temple complex when she overheard about a fire in a police van. Alarmed, she stepped out of the premises to rush back home, only to find the house in flames. She could see a group of men clad in dark clothes come out of the back door, and as she hid behind the trees in the distant darkness, her heart sank. Were they dacoits? Was her family dead? Kalyani cursed her will to live. She could not gather the courage to walk into the flames and check for life. Instead, she turned around, with the little Annas she had left tucked in the edge of her anchol and started walking. She had no idea where she was going or what was going to happen to her. She begged for water from people who shooed her away and for food when a kind Vaishnav gave her some. She was now at the edge of a pond on the outskirts of a village she did not know. She needed to find shelter quickly. It was summer, but the storms could come any day. She could not live in the streets. Women her age were vulnerable. Kalyani said a soft prayer to her Lord and started walking again. She was suddenly startled by a cycle that zoomed past her and screeched to a halt.
“Kalyani Didi?” Her heart skipped a bit as she looked up at the man saying her name. “Is that you?”
“No.” She shook her head, a little pale, trying to place the man. Who was he? A smile curved his face,
“Don’t you recognise me? How can you? We last met at your wedding.” He shook his head. Kalyani glowered a little, then firmly shook her head. “I am not who you think I am.” The man looked at her suspiciously.
“I know what happened, Kalyani Didi. I mean, I don’t know every detail of it, but…” he looked up to watch her turn back as she started walking. “Wait.”
“I am not…” Kalyani turned as he got down from the cycle, and that was when she recognised him. Naw Da… as Abhaya called him, Swadhin’s elder brother. He was almost her age, and she had no idea why he was calling her Didi.
“Aren’t you Upendra Kaka’s son?” She raised her eyebrows, stunned. He flashed a smile.
“So you are Kalyani after all.” He made her look away.
“I never heard you call me Didi, and you are a grown man. How could I recognise you?” She shook her head and looked away, narrowing her eyebrows.
“I did not call you Didi?” He scratched his head sheepishly. “It's been so long, I forgot. Almost a decade? Where are you off to?” She was silent. He pressed his lips together and thought for a while.
“Who else knows you are alive?” His question made her look up as her throat dried.
“Are they all… dead?”
“I suppose so.” He was alarmed by her sudden, tearful outburst.
She hid her face with her hands and cried. He looked around, keeping a watch on the empty road. If anyone found him with a crying widow, he would be beaten to death without asking for an explanation.
“I am such a coward. I could have…” She sobbed.
“Umm… How did you…” Kalyani composed herself and narrated her side to him. So they don’t know she is alive?
“Come with me.” He said, getting up on the cycle and patting the seat behind him, Kalyani stared at him wide-eyed and flabbergasted. “Hop on.”
“I am not getting on that.” She snapped. It was then that he realised his boundaries and smiled sheepishly again. “I am sorry, my social skills are a little…”
“Weird.” Kalyani eyed him suspiciously. “Where are you taking me?”
“I come to this village once a week to help in a mission. We keep poor and orphaned children, feed and clothe them…” He explained. “You can stay there as long as you want.”
“What about Kaka Moshai and…” She asked. He shook his head.
“I am in charge, and don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone your identity.” He said firmly, “I promise. In return, you need to help around the place, the usual cooking, cleaning…”
“But I am a widow.” She looked daggers at him.
He had started walking ahead with his cycle by then, hoping she would follow, but when she did not, he stopped.
“Don’t worry, there are others there just like you. It is an organisation run by Brahma Samaj and they…” Kalyani inhaled. Her father’s stance on them was quite strong.
“They are here only to disrupt the normal course of life.” He would often say. She stepped beside him, with the cycle in between, as they started walking together.
“What is your name?” She asked, breaking the odd silence. “All I heard was Naw Da.”
“Sharat.” He smiled at her.
“And how did you know it was me?” She asked. They had reached the outskirts of the village and stood at the gate of the “Mission” he served. She could see the courtyard, the school rooms, the hostel and the kitchen area and a big banyan tree in the middle of it. He looked awkward at her question.
“You… umm have a unique feature.” He made her frown slightly. “That mole on your upper left eye’s corner…” Kalyani suddenly felt strange. It had been days since she had seen herself in the mirror, and never had anyone pointed it out. She eyed Sharat suspiciously.
“Listen, if you are doing this for some personal vendetta and trying to get me into this Brahma Samaj, I am a Brahmin widow, and I will always abide by the rules of it.” Kalyani’s voice was firm. “I may be illiterate and poor with nowhere to go, but I will not sell my religion and identity to…” She stopped at Sharat’s frantic hand gesture.
“No, no, no. I am sorry if I made you feel awkward. I truly am.” He held his ears briefly in the middle of his frantic hand gesture. “Please stay, and nobody will force you to do anything here. You can stay at your own free will and leave also. I was just helping.” Without letting Kalyani react, he ran into the premises, calling out to people as the students rushed out and flocked around him. Kalyani looked up at the black letters on the yellow board. She could not read. But if she could, she would perhaps be reassured that it read “ Adhare Alo Mission for Orphans: Managed by Adi Brahmo Samaj Society, Kashipur.”
“Such a weird fellow.” Kalyani sighed before she stepped into the Mission.
Words and Explanation:
Anchol: The end of a saree, also called Pallu in Hindi
