Please Bring My Daughter Back...

*The telephone was ringing*

"Beena pick up the phone."

*Tring Tring*

"Oh ho Beena. Beena where are you", he shouted.

He stood up agitatedly from his chair, kept his newspaper aside and walked towards the phone.

"Hello."

"Is this Mr. Pant?"

"Yes I am Vijay Pant speaking."

"Sir I am calling from the Police Station. We have found a dead body. It matches with the specifications of your lost daughter. Can you please come and check once?"

"Yes. We will be there in an hour."

He stood still holding the phone. His throat too dry to call his wife. A sigh escaped from his parched throat.

"Please God, not my daughter. Anyone but not Meetali."

Suddenly it struck him if it would not be Meetali it would certainly be someone else's daughter. He was asking for the death of another child. He felt ashamed even thinking about it. How ruthless and insensitive humans can be in order to protect their loved ones?

His chain of thoughts got broken by another voice.

"Why were you calling my name? I was in the washroom and why are you holding the phone?"

"It was a call from the police station."

"What? Have they found her", her eyes spoke volumes, shinning with excitement.

"No, they want us to go and identify a dead body they have found which they think resembles Meetali."

Beena's ashen face worried him. He knew this identification procedure takes a toll of her health. She sat on the couch with her head in her hands.

"Did you take your medicines", he asked.

"For what should I take those medicines? What am Iiving for? Every day I wake up with a hope in my heart that someone would bring her back and each day ends in despair. Do you know how I feel? This fear of her being hurt somewhere kills me every day. It is better that I die", she went and locked herself in their room.

It's been six months since their daughter disappeared. She went to her office and never returned. Innumerable advertisements in newspapers, endless trips to the police station and back, frequent searching of all familiar places, still not even a sign of where she could have gone. As if she just disappeared in thin air.

Neighbors came, relatives came. Some offered sympathies, some just sipped away tea silently. Some suggested that she might have been kidnapped, some suggested possibilities of eloping with a lover. The others just nodded in agreement.

He never said a word. He knew his daughter couldn't have done anything that could have brought disgrace to him. She certainly would have told him if she liked anyone. What he dreaded the most was the possibility of her being kidnapped or worse raped and killed. The news showing girls forced into prostitution after abduction and their miserable life scared him beyond his wits. Even the thought made him shiver. But seeing the scenario and condition of law and order he feared that these possibilities might actually come to life.

His wife, since that unfortunate day kept sitting at the doorstep waiting for her daughter to return. Her eyes searching for her child. She was afraid to even blink her eyes thinking in that nanosecond she might miss the sight of her daughter.

Their entire life had come to an abrupt halt. Their entire life revolved around the different possibilities as to what could have happened. Many times Beena would shriek in the middle of the night seeing a nightmare. Vijay would pat her back and hold her hand, trying to calm his aging wife. Seeing her asleep, he would often go to his daughter's room and cry, hold her pictures and weep inconsolably. They had just one daughter. She was their everything.

*Morgue*

These words were enough to make even the strongest people weak. He remembered his first trip to this place when he was called for the identification for the first time, around 3 months ago. The putrid smell, dead bodies covered in white, crying relatives of some and relieved others whose near and dear ones weren't found there. Beena instantaneously began vomiting. He was also feeling dizzy. But yet they had to identify. At least that would bring the uncertainty to an end.

Today they both felt a little in control. They were used to the acrid smell, dead bodies and crying relatives. One part of them wanted to be a part of them to be free from the uncertainty that made their lives miserable, the other hoping and praying that this shouldn't be their daughter.

"This way Mr. and Mrs. Pant."

The policeman took them to a corner where the body was kept. The hand was out of the white cloth and the watch on it resembled that of Meetali's. Beena tugged her husband's shirt and pointed to that hand. Shivering and letting out an inaudible cry she was about to collapse when he held her. He asked the officers to take her out and affirming them that he'd identify the body alone. On usual days the officers would deny such requests but they had seen the misery this couple had been enduring and even knowing that it was against the norms, they still complied.

Alone in the murky atmosphere. He held his breath and moved towards the body. He kept staring at the white cloth which was the only barrier between him and the body. He pulled the cloth away.

Right in front of his eyes laid his daughter. Her face a little decayed, with dried blood covering it completely. He couldn't stand anymore. He sat on the dirty ground and kept banging his head on the wall.

"Why? God why? What did my daughter do? She was a baby. My baby. What will I tell her mother? I failed to bring her daughter back?"

He went and shrugged the body.

"Wake up Meetali. Wake up. You can't leave us. Your Maa is waiting outside. She will die if she knows you are no more. Wake up please I beg wake up."

Another officer came and held him.

"Sir please control yourself. Someone get me water."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How did she die?"

"The autopsy reports say that she'd been gang raped many times, perhaps for a month."

"Will you do me a favor?"

"Yes sir, what ever you say", he knew he couldn't deny.

"I'll take her in the evening."

"Of course sir. No problem."

He went out and sat in his car.

"Was it her", asked his exasperated wife.

"No dear. The watch was similar. That is it. Do not worry our daughter wouldn't be found in the morgue. Let's go home", he said forcing a smile.

As he drove back home, he felt guilty for lying but he knew Beena wouldn't be able to take this blow. It was better if she had her hopes. At least she'd live this way and have a reason to live. Giving her the news of Meetali's death would aggravate her sufferings and she might as well wouldn't be able to take this pain. He couldn't afford losing her as well. He needed her to stay alive. He knew Meetali will never come back but for Beena to stay he was ready to forge a lie forever. His heart felt heavy. Lying would be tough, he knew.

Later in the evening, he went and ceremonially cremated his daughter.

All he could say was ," Someone please bring my daughter back. My wife is still waiting."

PS- Every year many girls go missing and probably are never found. It is a torture for their families. I read an article in the newspaper today regarding the same. That calculation was based on the Aug. 8 response by Jitendra Singh, minister of state for home affairs, to a question posed in the Rajya Sabha, Parliament’s upper house. He said almost 60,000 children in 2011 were reported missing from a total of 28 states and union territories according to the NCRB. Of these more than 22,000 are yet to be located. I am not questioning the law and order but then is there something we can do? At least something. I really do not know what can be done. Please help me out. 

This Diwali Light up some Otherwise Bleak Lives

"This Diwali Let us brighten some Otherwise Bleak Lives"

Deepavali is round the corner. Hardly 2 days. Just like you I am super excited. Diwali is synonymous with joy, happiness, light, festivity, great food and my list is quite endless. But then I am little concerned about a few things. Not everything and everyone is that happy.

I thought endlessly for like two days to figure out how I can make Diwali a happy festival for all of us. After an intense mental workout I guess I am ready to share with you the "Elixir" of Real Happiness.

1. This Diwali when you enter the cleanliness spree, take some time out and separate the clothes that you have not worn in the past few months. There is a high probability that you might not even wear them again. These clothes can continue to hang in your cupboard but then you can take them and give them away to the kids of the maid who works in your home, slums, kids you see on the street picking up plastics or anyone whom you see is in need of clothes. Winters are coming, this little help will surely comfort them.

2. However I urge , plead and beg I know you all will buy crackers. But do me a favor, buy less this time. All I am saying is, it is written nowhere that Deepawali is a festival of crackers. It is a festival of light. Crackers will pollute the gas you are breathing so it's your own loss.

But I have another grave concern.

I have a few friends who stay outside my home. They are my four legged loyal friends. Diwali is one time of the year when they are the most uncomfortable. The chilling weather and to top it all, crackers. Animals are highly sensitive to sound. So the "Boom" that you hear while bursting the crackers is like "BOOOOOOOMMMMM" for them. Some die of heart attack others get violent and sometimes deaf. Should our entertainment come at the expense of poor innocent lives? Don't you think that is very harsh? I don't think Lord Ram would agree to this kind of torture.

And yes dare anyone try and tie a cracker to the tail of any animal. What kind of cheap , insensitive, cruel and idiotic joke is that? Trust me if I catch anyone doing that I will not think once and do the same to that person. Yes this is something that everyone should vehemently oppose. We are humans, high time we start behaving like humans. People who live near Zoo or any animal center please I request do not make Diwali a plight for caged animals. They are already sacrificing their freedom for our entertainment.

3. So it is Diwali time. Lots of sweets, delicacies and savory dishes might be awaiting you. Well why not cook a little more quantity than required and distribute it among those who rarely get a chance to relish such tastes. My plan is simple. On the night of Diwali I am packing food that I am going to cook and distribute it (well nobody is ever that busy, try skipping the poker schedule for a while) . Even on the night of Diwali, the daily wage workers, rikshaw- pullers will be sleeping on the footpaths, some cooking their food. I guess the best admirers of my cooking can be found there. Try it. I am not just writing for the heck of it. I did it last year and trust me it was awesome. The smile and gratitude on their faces and wishes on their lips, you'll feel like Superman/Superwoman.

4. Well as I said you all will but crackers, if you are doing so then there is no harm if you but a few extra packets of "Phuljhari" (only these , nothing else) and while you enjoy Diwali , lend one of yours to the little child who might have seen many of these (cracker factories employ young kids) but never got a chance to light one. The longing in the eyes of such sweet little kids is heart wrenching. Give away, simply give away these lightening sticks to them. You will never get to see a brighter smile.

5. Distribute candles ("Diyas" require oil as well). Not a single household should stay dark at least that night. Let us all surrender to light.

6. I'll request you all not to change Diwali into a poker night. You are not setting a good example for your young kids who still believe that Diwali is a festival of light.

This Diwali let us spread happiness, light, beauty of life and make people believe that compassion and care comes before everything.

This Diwali spread joy.

This Diwali make someone smile.

This Diwali brighten up some otherwise bleak lives.

Signing off

Divya Sharma

PS- This Diwali I am running a drive for blood donation. If you are a lucknowite inbox me. There are around 40 kids, age 1- 12 suffering from cancer. They need us.

"Tum mujhe Khoon do main tumhe Khushiyan dungi" :)

A Letter to my Future Husband

Dear Future HusbandI do not know your name as of now but then does it matter? You don't know mine either. Hope you are doing fine. I am just a little upset with the kind of society I live in. Mind hearing me out?Very often I am told that I can't be a good wife because I lack the basic pre-requisites for being one, for example I am stubborn, outspoken, a little less "feminish", not exactly fitting the definition of a respected lady because I have a "naked mind" and I write and interact with a lot of people over issues that are still a taboo in our society like rapes, sexual harassment, molestation, pornography, menstruation, etc, etc."A girl with good morals will never go forward and write about such things on a public platform Divya. This is not called being bold. It is called being brazen or in simpler words shamelessness. These are nothing but attention seeking tactics."The above statement has been made by different people in more or less the same manner towards me. It is sad. Very demeaning at times that in my quest to make this country more aware I am losing on respect (according to some people).Here I will mention all the possible reasons that I can fathom that "why I can't be a good wife". It is in general a reply to people who think I can't be one. In case you think that after reading these you can marry me, then I will be more than happy. But then these are some things highly unlikely to change.Don't be scared I am not asking for your kidney. Just some little equality and respect. Here it goes-1. I can't be a good Indian wife because I do not believe in worshiping the man I marry. The man I will marry shall be my equal, neither superior nor inferior to me. I will respect him to the core but I also expect him to respect me the same way. I am not ready to put him on a pedestal higher than mine in order to make him feel significant. I cannot do that. But then I am all ready to be his companion, his equal half rather than better half.2. I love my career to bits and pieces. My parents have invested a huge part of their hard earned money into educating me. I cannot give up on my career to stay at home and be a good house wife. I am not saying that I will turn a blind eye to my responsibilities towards our home. I can assure to devote equal attention to both spheres of my lives but then I expect you to help me out because this home belongs to both of us equally. Just like you I will come tired after working all day. It seems a little unfair to me if I have to do all household chores alone. I am not saying that you have to cook for me everyday but a cup of tea once in a blue moon wouldn't hurt I guess. At least I will know that you are sensitive towards the amount of pressure on me.3. I have no qualms veiling my head if that makes my elders believe that I respect them. I respect people and I have no issues bowing down to touch their feet because in return I get lots of good wishes for my future but  if you try and tell me to veil my thoughts then I would not respect that. I am not objectifying myself while I write and even if I do then that is my profession. If respectable ladies do not talk about sex or rapes on public platform then it is not my fault. I have made it a point to educate the society and I find it extremely necessary. I am sorry you have to put up with that. This would not change. You can change your mind byt he way.4. I am not a machine to be able to satiate to your desires when you want.You have to give me the time and space to adjust and feel comfortable around yourself (I am against marital rapes). And also I believe there is nothing wrong if in case I tell you about my desires and my needs (it is not wrong. I am a human being and my hormones are equally capable).5. I will never tolerate on being questioned about my character. For the kind of profession I have chosen, it demands a great deal to be in contact with my readership audience for their feedback. This is a part of my job. I am a very loyal person. I value honesty and transparency in relationships. I am ready for you to have a peek in my life whenever you want so that you can be rest assured but then I also want you  to give me equal rights in that respect. Those who have to cheat will do,irrespective of anything.  And if in case I would have been doing any other job still the same would have applied.6. I can cook, do dishes, wash clothes, clean my home, sew, stitch etc etc because I know how to do that but I absolutely abhor the idea of being treated like a maid. I am doing everything out of my love and responsibility and under no circumstance would I allow anyone to take me or the work I do for granted.I'd like to be appreciated and thanked for everything I do. There is no harm in showering appreciation if it is making your life easier. Is it?7. Usually good wives are expected to be obedient. That is the last thing you can expect me to be. I am ready to discuss and talk about any issue we are facing but obey? Nah! Not my cup of tea. Just the way you don't like to take orders, I am no different. I will do as I please till the point there is nothing wrong in it. But if in case it hurts you or our family I am ready to quit on that if I see a good reason behind it. Bottom line I am accommodating.8. I'll treat your family with respect and I would want you to treat mine with the same. Though if you do not, even then I will respect your family but not you anymore and I might as well pack my bags and leave because if you can't respect those who have spent their lives trying to make me who I am then you will never be able to respect me. Whenever we have kids, point one I want no discussion over the gender of my children and point two they are your kids as much as they are mine. I will be drained through the process of pregnancy and I will need care. I am not asking you to quit your job but then if you see our child crying because he/ she has wet his/her nappy, take the pain and change it. It is called "Child Father Bond".9. I will really make it clear I am not taking any sort of domestic violence, verbal abuse or name calling in our marriage and neither will I do the same. We should behave like adults and mature people and respect each other's life and privacy. If you slap me, I will slap you back and also file an FIR and get you behind the bars. But then I know if I misbehave you have every right to condemn my behavior and take necessary action. So let us just both try and not do that-saves us from a lot of trouble.10. As I earn and so do you, we would equally contribute to our household.But then I would like us to have our respective bank accounts and also control over our respective money. If that is not a problem. And as we are talking about economic aspects , it wouldn't come as a surprise if I might say that I am against dowry. I earn a decent enough salary each month. I am equally qualified and I understand that this will act like an additonal burden to my parents.I understand that I might sound rude, arrogant and dominating. I am none of these. I am just simply stating what I feel is right. We can talk about them.These are not conditions. These are wishes. Because I believe we both should have a happy marriage. I am not asking for anything that is unjust. Am I? I have been brought up in an open environment. There are no hard and fast rules that you have to marry me. But then I will be happy if you apply all this to any girl who is more than willing to be your wife. She'll be happy and obviously a happy wife leads to a happy family. So it is a happy happy situation.Take careYours only when you marry me, till then my own

Divya Sharma

Meeting His Parents

"I guess it is time for you to meet them", he sipped his coffee gently and looked at her trying to decipher her reaction.

"Time to meet whom", she questioned scanning the menu.

"My parents obviously. You've always asked so much about them. Don't you want to meet them now?"

"Ummm... You know I am a little skeptical. You've known how different we are when it comes to our respective backgrounds. I am not very sure they'll appreciate the fact that we have been together for a while."

"What makes you think so? What matters is where you are right now and not where you were before. At this point of time you have graduated from the same university as I have and that too with a scholarship and grades higher than mine. We both work in MNC's. So right now you are in a better light than me", he smirked stroking her cheek.

"You use silverware at home?"

"Where does that come from?"

"No I saw that in one of your photographs. I mean really? Do you?"

"Well yes we do. You are very observant. You know mum is a little finicky about table etiquette sometimes. But don't you think we should focus on more important things like the questions they might ask?"

"I do not know how to use fork and knife", she declared.

"Most of us don't ", he was still sipping his coffee with the same ease.

"I want to learn. I don't want to appear rustic in front of your parents."

"Huh?"

He was clearly displeased.

"See my parents are not going to judge you. Had you asked me how to use a fork and knife because you wanted to know I would have gladly accepted but then for this reason I am afraid but I am hurt. You are perfect the way you are. You are going to meet them and not please them for God sake."

She shifted uneasily in her chair. She stuck her lower lip out like she always did when she was sad.

"I just wanted to be perfect."

He smiled at her innocence. She was so naive, so child like. Her craze for perfection suited her fierce desire to win under any circumstance, it being the reason for his fatal attraction towards her that resulted in love.

"Okay so you hold the knife in your right hand  and the fork in your left", he gestured using both his hands.

"No no you are wrong. We eat with our right hand so fork should be in the right one na", she seemed visibly confused.

"See the deal is you are a right handed person. You exert more force with your right hand which is necessary to cut the food and that brings us to the conclusion so as to why you hold the knife in your right hand", he smiled victoriously at the show of his knowledge secretly thanking his mother for the grilling table manners.

"Oh!", she hit her head with her palm.

"Now dig deep into the food cutting it with the edge trying to push the other half away."

She stared at him.

"Oh ho see", he held her hand and taught her.

"Hello ma'am and sir", she stammered as she stood in front of his parents wearing her best dress.

His mother engulfed her into a hug and his father wore a smug smile.

"It is lovely to meet you. My son always keeps talking about you. Let's get to the dining room. I have the tea and snacks ready", his mother spoke excitedly.

She felt like that little child who gets nervous before the exam after days of practice and study.

Her mental thoughts were running wild.

*Oh! Sandwitches. Thank God no knife and fork. Wait. Did I say that too early? Why are they using a knife and fork? Oh my God*

She felt someone tugging the hem of her dress only to realize that her love was staring at her.

"Mum is asking you something. Are you okay", he questioned.

"Umm yes yes I am totally fine. It is just that I was lost in some random thoughts. Not that it always happens but then sometimes it does", she was amazed rather ridiculed by her own verbosity.

"It is okay beta. Calm down", his mother said suppressing a  smile.

She fidgeted with the knife.

"So how are your parents?"

She was still busy dissecting the sandwitches pulling it apart like a surgeon operating his patient.

Across the table he could see how uncomfortable she looked. Her entire concentration was on the sandwitch and her way of eating than the conversation. He was slightly amused by her flabbergasted ways but then the fact that she was not being herself bothered him regardless of how funny the situation seemed.

He held his sandwitch in his hand and took a big bite.

"Yum!! It's great mum."

"Why aren't you using the cutlery  darling?"

"Mum it tastes the same without them. Why don't you try it as well", he asked his girlfriend.

She glared at him.

"What? Try it out."

She did the same and smiled.

"Yeah mum was asking about your family", he blurted out.

The conversation went on and on. He winked at her several times secretly giving her thumbs up every time she spoke something really nice. She felt a lot better.

The conversation steered to her family background sooner than she expected.

"Ma'am my father was a government employee and my mother a teacher. We belong to a very humble background. My parents have worked very hard and so have I. We value money and it's origins."

"Oh that is lovely. That is how every girl rather every child should be. Now I know why my son has become so responsible off late. I guess he has credits to do", she raised an eyebrow throwing accusatory glances at her son.

"Well yes mum. She is just so perfect. She was the topper of our batch", he patted her back.

His father who was quiet through out the conversation finally broke his silence.

"He is an impulsive man. How do you manage to put up with his recklessness?"

She blushed a little and cleared her throat.

"The same way he deals with the ignorance of my mind, the insecurities of my heart and the specks of impurities in my soul."

"Our son has grown up. His choice of a life partner makes me proud. Welcome to the family", his father extended a handshake.

She was shell shocked by the sudden change of events. She sucked in breath and smiled confidently.

Back at her home, after changing into her night clothes, she messaged him.

*Thank you. Your parents are really nice. I am a little tired. We'll talk tomorrow. Good night.*

Instantly her cell beeped.

*We wouldn't talk tonight? huh huh Meanie!! Well now that you are officially mine and very soon you''ll be sleeping next to me so I guess one night wouldn't hurt. My parents will be coming over to meet yours tomorrow. Good night.*

She pulled her diary out of her Almira and sat down to write.

It is strange how life decides to teach us different lessons. I vividly remember the first time I met him. I was so judgmental. I always thought people who were rich are mean , obnoxious and have an easy life. I had this strange animosity towards him. But then we started talking. His easy ways, down to earth thinking wooed me. I was smitten by his inquisitiveness. There are many things that I really adore about him. Unlike me he doesn't judge people and has this strange quality of finding the good in people. He is highly optimistic. The best part is that he understands me in and out. Even today just by looking at me he could know that I wasn't comfortable and with so much ease he just solved the problem. This is him. Always standing there to help me out. So many times I have given up hope but he would challenge me yet again, losing at times just to see me win. Male ego is cruel but then I never saw his as if he deliberately killed his ego in order to love me fully. What have I done to deserve him? His love? His care? I wish I knew. It is sheer destiny that I met him. Isn't it? He says I am different and I guess if he says so then I might also be. But then he says only good things about everyone. With him I do not feel the need to put up a pretense or be what I am not. With him , I am me.

Love if I am asked to define would be what I see in his actions more than his words. Love is a verb not a noun . Love is him . And now he is mine. I so wish to laugh and cry at the same time. The absurdity of my statement might amaze you but that is how I feel. He gets my emotions do a salsa. I love him. I do not say that often but I do. And I know that he knows.

Good Night.

She was a Mother after all....

The weather was unusually cold that year. Winters had arrived early. Her bent back pained badly as she crouched on the floor covered with tattered clothes. Winters were the only time she feared death. She did not fear anything other than that. Since the day she entered youth she had seen extreme poverty, so extreme that she fed on garbage for the child in her womb to survive. But she was a fighter. She loved life and more than that her son. Nothing could deter her from surviving. Neither abandonment from her husband two months after marriage nor not being able to get basic necessities of life. She did everything that could get her money. Washing dishes, doing household chores, sewing clothes, picking up plastics and every other small petty task that could fetch her some little amount of money. She worked 24 hours in order to provide her son his few hours of luxuries. Her son totally oblivious to his mother's love spent his day loitering around on the streets with hooligans and creating ruckus in the area they lived.

Somehow for her, her son was perfect. He was the most polite, humble, intelligent person alive on this earth. Such are mothers. They believe in you and your potential when you are sure you don't have any. She doted on her son. Ever she got a complaint from anyone she would defend him over and over. It was her firm belief in him and her upbringing. She knew he couldn't hurt a fly.

But for the past few she had become restless. He was coming home late every night, drunk with staggering legs and body that reeked of the unearthly smell of cheap alcohol. She blamed it all on the bad company knowing deep in her heart who she should have been blaming.

She sat straight in the floor on hearing the door of her small hut opening. She yelled his name but the only response she heard was a blabber. Unclear words out of her son's mouth asking for revenge. She was deeply disturbed seeing him like this.

"Where were you?"

*NO response*

"I asked where you were", she raised her voice.

"Stop asking me useless questions."

"What do you mean by useless questions? I am your mother. I have been seeing you past few days.  I do not work all day to see this. If you bring disgrace to me I will disown you."

"Fine suit yourself. Throw me out."

She stepped back seeing his audacity. She was completely taken aback by his behavior. She again bundled herself in rags and sat on the floor seeing her son sleeping blissfully on the cot.

She remembered the way the son of the lady where she washed dishes was lashing out on his mother for not giving her money to buy something. She shouted at him for misbehaving. But his mother stood still. Now she understood her pain. When your own child takes a plunge to kill your respect, at that time even the hardest heart would stone itself to death. She looked at him with longing in her eyes. How happy she was when he was born. She told everyone around that her child would get her out of misery. She would turn him into an officer. All her dreams appeared shallow and farfetched. Her biggest dream and her biggest joy lay on the cot immersed in alcohol muttering glorious abuses to someone.

She went and gently patted his cheeks. She rummaged her fingers into his hair. She loved him immensely. She would try every bit to change him and reform his ways.

Durga Ashtami was coming. The entire town was bustling with joyous people. She had over timed for past two months to be able to celebrate with great pomp and show. It had grown dark but today she was full of enthusiasm. Chopping vegetables and stirring her son's favorite dessert she felt elated. She'd talk to him about a job she had found for him.

All of a sudden she heard someone hurling abuses. Her house was at the far end and behind it was an extended jungle. She heard a stifled scream. And then the voice of her son.

She went rushing behind her house deep into the woods following the voices when she heard it. She carried the knife with which she was cutting the vegetables along with her sensing some mishap.

"Her mother accused us of stealing, bloody bitch we'd teach her a lesson for life."

"She appears luscious."

She saw her son and another man carrying a young girl of maybe nine or ten. Dragging her along the woods as she cried for mercy and help. Within a second that girl was stripped off her clothes and her son mounted on her. She was stoned. All her upbringing and love for her son felt useless. This can't be my son. No!!

She went ahead and yelled.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The other man tried pushing her away. With all her might she slashed his throat apart. She moved forward to her son.

"Leave the girl."

His son in the moment of extreme anger topped by his desires did not care what his mother was saying. The girl underneath was crying in pain, shouting for help.

"She is someone's daughter as well. This man who is trying to violate her is just another man who the society does not need. Save her", her conscious demanded.

"What will you do with your life without your son? This girl does not mean anything to you but once your son is gone he'd never return", the other part of conscious debated.

She held the knife so firmly that her knuckles had turned white. She said aloud the name of Goddess Durga and attacked her son. She stabbed him several times until he moved off the girl. His son put up a strong fight. She was old yet she did not give up. She kept fighting. She took off her sari and covered the girl.

Her son was taking his final breaths.

"What kind of mother are you? Why did you give me birth if you had to kill me?"

"I gave you birth so that you could give me a reason to live. On the other hand you do not even deserve to be called my son. I can live alone but not with someone who has no humanity."

She spoke with hatred in her eyes. He died. She left him there.

She went to the police station and filed a complaint. The girl next to her was sobbing. She held her and cried. Cried for the loss of her son, her only reason to live. Then she was a protector who'd do anything to protect a girl now she was a mother mourning over her son's death. Her son, her hope, her life and her everything.