Eyes Speak Lies ...

Silence

Let us move back a few decades in time. An India of hopes, of progress, of love, of culture, of dreams. Dreams. Dreams that shape the course of our actions, dreams that let us live our life the way we want to. Dreams of wealth, status, fame, success. Of love. Of life. Of peace. Of truth. In that era, was born a girl, an angel, with dreams of her own.

She was an angel not because she was beautiful or ethereal but for reasons far more critical. She never sat by the river and dreamt of a prince on a white horse coming to sweep her of her feet. She never dreamt of being the apple of everyone’s eye. She never dreamt of being a paranormal success in life. She never craved for the fame that lesser mortals do. No, she did not dream of any such things. Her world was very removed from the materialistic considerations of life. Yet, she nurtured a dream. A dream never meant to be fulfilled.

Then came a time when she realized her folly. She stopped dreaming. No, she did not stop living. She was happy. She had no desires. She expected nothing from anyone. She had dreams, but in her dreams, she was self dependent, self reliant and self sufficient. Her dreams were not based on the want of support or help from external sources. This is her story. A story, not a fairy tale. A story dark and gloomy, sadistic even. Yes, it is a story of her grit, her determination, her love, her passion, her beliefs, her fight. She was an angel, but she was hard put to remain one. It was her fight against her own destiny. A fight in vain, maybe, but a fight still. She fought and fought and fought and never did stop.

That young girl grew up to be a lovely young lady. Again the adjectives I use here do not imply physical characteristics. She might have been physically attractive, but then again, she might not have been. It is inconsequential to our story. So, she grew up to be a lovely young lady, a very capable hand at all chores assigned to her. Academically brilliant, the best among her peers. It is, in fact, unfair to compare her to her peers, as I have already said, she was something different, someone at a higher pedestal than the lesser mortals. Not that she wanted to be so or liked her status as thus. Unfortunately, nor did the others. She was praised wherever she went, her endeavors always an overwhelming success, but overwhelming was the wrath of those who disliked her or were jealous of her.

She learned to take everything with a pinch of salt and moved on. She did but the others did not. For her, it was a constant ordeal. Caught in a sort of a time warp, it was a sense of déjà vu all along. Her dreams, her desires, she kept to herself. She did not even realize the atrocities she was going through, for her patience and her enduring capabilities were far greater than ours. Then one day, amidst her education, she was married off, her life a disarray. By the time she could reorient herself and adapt to the new circumstances, her life had changed for ever. She had never wanted to seek her identity, to know who she was. Well, the time still hadn’t come to do so. Or at least she didn’t realize it had.

She took on her new duties with complete vigor and a sincerity unparalleled. Her integrity, unquestionable. Her desires, unfathomable. All she wanted was the trust and support of her husband. Nothing more, nothing less. On the first night of her marriage, her husband made a request to her, “ Please always be true to me. Never ever hide anything and nor will I.” Her joy knew no bounds. Everything that she had wanted ever since her childhood had just fallen in her lap. A truthful, trustworthy companion, who would stand by her side in turbulent times was all she had ever dreamt of. A dream always hidden close to her bosom, never revealed even to the closest of friends, not that she had many. This was a new beginning. Of her doom.

She was naïve, innocent, the path unknown, but she had a mind of her own and her priorities were sorted out. She always followed a path of righteousness and remained true to herself, ensuring that if she ever looked back, she would never have to wish that she had done anything differently and she didn’t. There was fire all around, but she persisted, her courage not yet ready to wilt. She walked through the pyre and came out purer, her chastity intact. Infuriating as it was to all her foes, nothing could they do besides stand and watch. All their efforts at diminishing her divinity had yielded naught. The fact that she did not cast aside her dignity and enter open battle had them baffled. They, pests of human beings, without absolutely any trace of humanity or compassion within them, had never endured anything so pure, so chaste and it hurt them, it hurt them like hell, though it was beyond the powers of their hopeless minds to gather the reasons for it.

And all this time, her husband was in mute support of her foes( read ‘his family’). She wept and she cried. Silently. She was an outsider, not one of them. After toiling for years in their service and respect, she could not as much make a place for herself in their hearts. She was indispensable. They all needed her. They used her. And threw her as if she was something you wash your filth off. Then came a day she decided ‘enough was enough’. They were not worthy of her respect. They were not worthy of her love. They were not worthy. She still did not seek revenge. That day, she decided that she will not allow herself to be exploited. She sought a new life with her husband and kid. There was still a glimmer of hope that not all had been lost and what had been could be rebuilt. Again, it was a new beginning. Of a bigger doom.

They could have understood, and withstood, had she retaliated. Her silence was excruciating. They scampered and they ran to gain lost ground. But they had lost miserably. The fight was over. She had sailed past and they were witnesses to her valor. She, meanwhile, was enduring pain of lost love, wounds of shattered dreams, the injuries of broken desires but her eyes were dry. She still had hope. Her son. And she vowed to make it count. She would make him rise to such heights, the pinnacle of pinnacles that no one would ever dare touch him. In the course of time, she found her friends, allies, with similar woes and they all swore to avenge their sufferings. Avenge, yes, but not seek revenge.

They had still not used their trump card. Her character. Immaculate. Not a blemish. Tarnish her image and watch her crumbling into a heap of ashes. They could still have the last laugh. They connived and plotted and methodically set about spreading rumors of disrepute about her. She, ignorant all the time, clung to her faith of inherent goodness in
everyone. When the bubble burst, everything was a ruin. A chapel of lost faith. Her insides shouting, yelling, ready to burst anytime, yet her eyes were dry. She will not give in. Not yet. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never. Never to these filthy, debauched, licentious, good for nothing pests.

It was a rebirth. As a phoenix is born again from it’s own ash. A new life. A better life. A new beginning. For another doom. Theirs. Her courage, her grit, her determination, her resilience, her focus, her vision, her aim. There was no place for anyone else. It was she and her dreams. Her desires. Her longings. Her cravings. Things that had been suppressed for the sake of others. Others whom she loved and who loved her not. Others whom she cared for and they cared not for her. Others who will never ever be happy in their life because rotten seeds must beget a rotten harvest. A journey had begun. Every success of hers was a stab in the chest for them. Every failure of theirs did not matter to her. She severed all relations with them. There never were relations of love and trust, but she broke off relations of hatred, of vengeance, of anger, of pity, for life. Her success was their doom. And succeed she did. And damned were they.

All this while, one person who continuously and relentlessly stepped a rung down her ladder of faith was her husband. Now he was perched on the last step with abyss beyond. She had no pity for him, no, she had nothing for him. She did not feel for him. But she had spent over two decades with him. She could not let him fall into a chasm deep and dark if she could help it. Again her angel-like qualities came over her. She knew she would be damned for it and he would again strike in the back as soon as he regained his strength. But she was ready for another blow. They had ceased to pain her. They were a part of her life. She sought them now. Also, at last, she set out in search of her true identity, her true self, her goal and the purpose of enduring all this. And thus her fight went on…..

posted by Swetank Gupta @ 11:50 am