Tark Se Mitaayenge Fark

The Shrills - 2

Godi mein le , mamta tadpe
Maa bebas hai lachaar hai

What could be a heavier burden for a mother to carry her child's corpse on her lap? What would be more painful for a mother to see the death of her child? Her legs seemed all numb to uplift the weight of her innocent daughter. Her hands all quivering yet, caressing her with all the affection she could give. Her saree all drenched with the blood of two souls, she and her daughter. Her tears gently falling on her forehead. She wanted to give her all the love and affection which she was to give Shrushti throughout the lifetime. But she was all helpless. Did her tears could make her alive? The loss created by her husband was surely irreparable.

Bondita' P.O.V :

As soon as I reached the spot, I  almost collapsed on the ground. I could locate a blood drenched lady , having a baby , rather a corpse on her lap. I was confused a bit so I gazed here and there and for my astonishment, found a blood drenched rock. I clearly estimated what would have happened.Even the words arent enough to express my feelings.  I was emotionless for some time after seeing the wretchful scene. I was in dilemma. Should I thanks the God for sending me late ,preventing from seeing the cruel act or should I get angry on him for not sending me on time? An unknown feeling rushed in me. I could feel a wierd pain in my heart, me perspiring continuously. The trembling of my body added bitterness to the situation. The tears rushed down from my eyes, making their way through my cheeks and finally on the ground. The unknown force came down my throat and stuck there. My stomach could feel unknown painful moulds from inside. But still the most dreadful scene I watched was the father drinking water and washing his red hands. But could the criminal be hidden? He was a criminal, for killing the infant. I looked at the mother whose tears were almost dried. She sat there like a statue..more probably a maniac. With heavy heart, I stood up and slowly walked towards her. My each step was as heavy as if someone has tied a stone to them.

I stood almost few inches away from her. I forwarded my trembling right hand towards her shoulder. I touched her but she didnt reacted. I sat down and looked at her. She was actually a statue. Her eyes had became all red and swollen due to constant crying. The other two girls came rushing towards us, from the shabby hut. I thought to give them a personal space. So I moved back and in no time, they rested their heads in her shoulder. For now, the shoulders of their mother was the only safe place. Unlike their mother, their sobs were loud. They shook their mother's hand. But the only thing I could hear was

"Patak diya...maar daala....gori nahi thi..." .

She was continuously blabbering these words. And I found the most cruel side of the soceity. For some time, I started running my imagination down, seeing the glimpses of the harsh scene in front if my eyes. I was astonished to see the villagers standing unaffected. Do they dont have any heart nor even emotions? It was getting on my nerves. How could someone be such a cold hearted? My heart popped out. With no more patience left,I stood up and slowly went towards the ironsmith.

I glared in his eyes. They didnt even had a percent of repentance. How could a father do such things? I remembered my baba who used to love me a lot and never made me cry. He never discriminated me for being a girl. Even if he would have been alived, he would have never entertained such stuffs. I tightly closed my eyes and my fists, for I have never seen any situation just like this.

"Ye kis tarah ka vyavhar hua hai yaha? Aapne apne hi beti ko maar diya? Arrey in sab mein us bechari ka kya dosh tha?" I spoke in between my cries. Anyone could have feel that my voice had become hoarse due to crying.