Courtesy
The passive
dawn heard the muffled footsteps of two blanket-clad men approach a thin pale
shepherd on the outskirts of the village.
“She
shouldn’t survive,” said the first man, as he bore his dark eyes on the sleepy
face that now laid in the arms of the shepherd.
With that,
the two men left with a casual gait. The shepherd saw the moroseness in the
child’s eyes as she saw them leave. Then, she shifted her attention to her
holder… to nothing but his eyes. He felt a shadow of guilt lurch somewhere in
his heart.
“Azad kaka?” the girl chirped.
“Yes, Guddi…
your father says we’ll go for a small hike… Here, sit on my shoulders. It’s
better that way,” he said, speeding his words and his footsteps. He felt
relieved to be away from her gaze but a strange fear gripped his beating heart.
***
The early
morning sun had never been this cruel as it felt today. The cacti-ridden
hillside gave him no relief. Azad knew he wouldn’t get water for the next three
hours. There was only one well on this stretch of The Aravallis. And he’d never
satiate his thirst from the death well that bore the tears and blood of the
countless girls who were abandoned by the families of his village.
The little
beads of sweat, formed on his forehead, tickled down his beard. He wiped the
sweat on his sleeve and paced faster.
“Do you know
you have a boomerang on your head?” Guddi said.
“Boomerang?”
“Yes, its
shape… did something hit you here?” She ran her small finger on the mark.
“Don’t
remember.”
After a few
silent seconds, Guddi spoke with a heavy tone. “My sparrows would be waiting
for me.”
“Where?”
“Home. I
feed sparrows every morning with bajra
and water. They are such nice birds. Colorful… and they sit in pairs and sound
so funny. Sometimes it sounds like they are calling my name.” Getting no
response from Azad, she continued, “Have you ever seen them eat?”
“No,” he
said, surprised at her exuberance.
“They walk
funnily specially when they are full. They eat, then drink then eat and drink
some more and then sit for a bit making pairs and talk to each other and then
they fly away… so far.” Her voice became morose. “Can I ever become a sparrow?”
Azad simply
shook his head.
She studied
the passing trees in deep contemplation. “I wonder how small baby sparrows
would be when they are born.”
Azad
couldn’t contain his laughter. “Quite small,” he began, “but not as small as
you think.”
“How small
do I think they are?”
“A sea-shell’s size? I used to think the same when I was your age,” he spoke, perked
up.
Their
laughter echoed softly in the rocks.
***
Guddi’s
weight became heavier with each step Azad took towards the death well. He had
come here many a time in the past but never had the journey been this
torturing. He was tired, scared, guilty, angry… but more than anything else, he
was in pain – physically and mentally. He couldn’t bring himself to believe
that the girl he had so loved since her birth would soon be no more. The gentle
hands that had cradled her would become a murderer’s weapon.
Kishan,
Azad’s close friend and Guddi’s father, had left the village four years back;
he wanted to earn more money and, thus, fled to the town. None in the village
knew that Kishan had been kept unaware of Guddi’s existence. They felt a wave
of change; most of the villagers thought it was for the better. There had been
far less killings of the female babies in the last four years.
Now that
Kishan was home, his fury had taken everyone in the family by their throats.
The village panchayat, too, had
decided in his favor, “Now that Kishan does not want the girl, she shall not
live.”
As a
punishment of keeping it hidden from his own friend, Azad was given the task of
drowning ‘the unwanted girl.’
“Had you
killed her on her birth, it’d have been less painful, Azad. I hope you enjoy
doing this now,” Kishan had mocked in the panchayat.
Azad
sniffed. But he knew he had lied to his friend; he had taken a decision on his
behalf when practically he had no right to do so.
He hardened
his jaw; he had a task to execute. The girl was to be killed.
***
As they
reached the death well, Azad winced at the wasteland this part of the rocks had
become over the years. It seemed like the village practice had not only taken
the lives of the girls but had obliterated each sign of nature, too.
His mojari felt uncomfortable. He put Guddi
on the well’s sidewall and felt his sore feet. Maybe God was the perpetrator of
his blistered feet; maybe He didn’t want another girl smothered to death.
“Kaka, let’s
go home… Ma will apply her haldi mix
on your feet. You’ll be alright.” She hesitated for a moment, “But how will I
lift you, Kaka? We’ll both fall down.”
Azad smiled
weakly.
He closed
his eyes. The dark flashes of an eight year old Azad blinked before him. His mother was crying and a new born baby
girl was being taken away from her to be thrown in the death well.
He felt
infirm. Curbing Guddi in his arms, he said, “My sister is in there, you know.”
“Down? What
is she doing there?” she asked.
“I don’t
know,” Azad said as he looked deep in the confines of the brick-laden hell.
“Wouldn’t it
be difficult to breathe down there?”
“It would
have been more difficult to breathe outside.” Azad felt his anger drip from
every pour of his body.
The
realization of the truth suddenly dawned on her. “Kaka, is this the death well?” She asked, scared.
“What death
well? And who told you about this?”
“Baba was saying last night. He said that
he’ll drown me in the death well and that I’ll di… I’ll die?” Her voice choked.
“No! What,
no! It’s not the death well… I mean, it’s named as death well but you won’t be
drowned in it... I’m here, my child.” Azad embraced the scared baby in a tight
loving hug. Several emotions screamed to him for mercy, for humanity. He could not cheat a four year old’s trust.
He thought
about his village. The people down the hill might never forgive him; they might
abandon him; his decision might not change anything but letting her die did not
seem to be an option anymore.
“Look, my
girl, I cannot take you home but we both can stay together. We might not have
anyone with us; you might not get to meet your old friends and it might be a
little bit different in the beginning but I promise… I shall keep you as my own
heart,” he beamed, “Will you come with me?”
Azad held
his hand out for her; she took it with a beatific smile.
Guddi’s
small hand held Azad’s finger lovingly. They walked down a few steps to sit
beneath a tree and revel in the company of the most mellifluous birds and the
loveliest breeze that hovered around and played on their smiles. There was
nothing more precious Mother Nature had held since a long, long time.
Copyright © 2012 Vaishali Jain
This story has been awarded the 2nd Runner Up prize at WriteUpCafe. Go check out other awesome entries.
