DREAMS ON SALE

Parents have to understand that procreation is not entertainment but a responsibility of the highest order.-Kiran Bedi

The sky was incredibly radiant and sun was shining as bright as a new shilling over our heads. I heard irked complaints about the scorching heat from my younger brother Boltu and Sheenu, who is the youngest and third girl in the family including me and my older sister Durga whose whereabouts are not known ever since she got married. We are all two years apart. I am approximately twelve as far as the memory of my mother goes ....she recollects events that happened in the village at the time I was born and the last incident she remembers, Kallu Ram Halvai’s demise confirms my birth date.
The fields were burning and the cattle, dry but somehow when the warmth of the sun penetrated the pores of my tanned covering, I felt incandescent and unfazed. “I like the sun!” I exclaimed when my mother’s scornful stare stopped me in my tracks as she sarcastically stated “Why not? Not doing an iota of work you will like the burning sun as well, being the eldest now after Durga, it’s your turn to handle the household chores, you must be more responsible” just then I curbed my observations of the weather and returned to helping my mother in her never-ending drills.
The enlisted tasks set for me included dusting and mopping our clay hut, washing our tatters, feeding, cleaning and milking my family’s precious asset and my best friend ...our cow named Gaura. This particular routine of being with Gaura was my favourite. I arose at the first hint of dawn and ran to bathe her... she seemed to love the touch of my warm hands blended with the coolness of water. She expressed her fondness of me by jingling the bronze bell on her neck that I gifted her whenever I was in the vicinity.
After bathing her I rushed to the village pond with other girls from the neighbourhood teasing and racing. Our giggles resonated on the bank of the murky pond where we quickly took a dip and washed our clothes to get prepared for a long day helping “aai” with the chores, going to the village school which was a treat for us as we got milk and one time meal along with new challenges to our seldom used brains and the feeling of being treated like a child. Our teacher Mandi, young and different from other village women especially took great care, she favoured me over others and entitled me as her best student ...I wanted to become like her someday.
I kept busy all day playing with my teddy, it was a torn out and discarded toy that I found one day near the old banyan tree .After patching and cleaning it became my most precious possession on which lay Sheenu’s greedy eyes .She looked for an opportunity to snatch it away from me, her big eyes would well up and my mother would scream “give her the damn toy!” I thought of a trick to save it from her .I hid it in a place where her bird brain could not reach... I tied a chord around its neck and suspended my blue beady eyed teddy from the thatched attic window. I felt a bout of excitement when I saw Sheenu hunt for it in desperation.
And though the food was always scarce but it filled me completely and the joy of my mother’s cooked rice and starch was more than enough for my half hungry stomach .She stoked my head and sang her songs and off I went to sleep .I hardly was aware of the hardships that they were going through until one day, when the curtains rose exhibiting the bareness of impoverished souls.
I came home from the fields after a long sun soaked day of school and play. Sheenu was huddled up in a corner and my brother was bellowing after being smacked by my enraged mother. Her eyes met mine I was frightened and assumed that the wrath was an outcome of my late home coming, my mind was racing with my throbbing heart and then I heard whispers coming from the backyard .I sensed tension. I peeped and saw a robust looking tall man as old as my father in the middle of some negotiations with my frail and fatigued father. My father appeared to be in agreement to some sly transaction. I overheard him confirming to Rs 2500.I ran to my mother to inform her about the deal ...she looked stoned and I was panic struck and confused as to what was on sale ...my Gaura , my home... what??? I did not know what was to come when the two men walked in and both glared at me ...the man’s strange eyes piercing the soul underneath my skin. I heard my mother let out a loud cry and my father who looked like a looser explained to me that I will have to go with this man. Lightning struck and suddenly the sun who was my friend until then, started pricking me with its unbearable needle like rays. My legs shivered and my essence trembled as I understood the deal ...it was not my house ...not the cow but me and my dreams that were on sale that afternoon. I became aware of my sister Durga’s absence now. I ran as fast as I could and climbed the ladder that led to the attic feverishly. I pulled the rope on which hung my dear teddy ... I gave it one last look and cuddled it to my chest before handing it down to Sheenu who looked happy yet aghast . I realised nothing was ever mine ...that I was to go just in a while to the darkness. Insecurity gripped me ... anger bit me. I rushed to Gaura and heard the jingling of her happy bells for the last time ...I patted her and muttered “it’s not you Gaura ...it’s me! ... It’s me! ... I am sold not you after all you have some use”. I went to my mother expecting in vain for her to save me from being subjected to all of this knowing that she had no say, I hugged her so tight.... I never wanted to let go .I wanted to take with me forever her smell, her warmth, her lullaby, and her strokes on my head ...the taste of her food. I could not give her up. I felt so alone and helpless as I was ushered towards the door. My protector became my tormentor and I left home and my childhood behind with a sullen and questioning look.


-Shreeja M Jhawar

( a real story of an indian village girl )