Posted September 15, 2009on:
Roshan collapsed on the bed on hearing what she just heard. She didn’t know what went wrong. How could he do this! She kept staring in the oblivion. Her head throbbed badly.
“Oh my God! What happened Roshan? Are you alright?” her mother almost screamed when she saw her daughter sitting at the edge of the bed lost and looking like she had seen a ghost.
It was then Roshan realized that her face was wet with her tears… tears of anger, tears of shame, tears of helplessness! “Hun?” she said as if coming out of a trance. “Nothing mom, nothing.” She did not want to say anything about the incident, not to anybody, especially her mother. She stormed out of the room.
Roshan wanted to go somewhere where she can find some peace. But peace will come to those who are peaceful at heart and her heart was in shreds at the moment.
She took her bike and zoomed on the highways where traffic was less and she could speed away. As if, the blowing winds would take away the hurt and shame along with them. If only it was that easy to unburden one self! She did not want to go home but it was almost twelve and she realized her mom would be worried. She had forgotten to carry her mobile in haste. She dreaded going home, to see him, to look into those eyes which she used to adore, where she found nothing but love for her.
She knew her parents were not like other couples. She knew her mom had withdrawn from sansaar very early in her married life, a couple of year after Roshan’s birth. She was like a hermit staying with them just for the sake of it. Roshan was now old enough to understand the sexual need of a person. Had she come to know that her father had a relationship, in real sense, with another woman, she would have understood completely. He deserved to be happy. The happiness he did not get from his wedded wife; happiness to be able to come home to a smiling face, happiness to share silly jokes, happiness to hug someone after a long fight, happiness just to feel that he is needed! She understood it all too well! But she could not understand her father’s sexual exploitation of a fifteen year old maid; a girl who was at least seven years younger to his own daughter! She could not understand how the girl too was so casual about it so as to talk about this affaire with her friend, as if saying, “This is what our lives are all about!” Why she did not tell any of this to her parents or was she happy about it? Was it money?
Her mind swarmed with too many questions; questions that would not be answered!
Not only had she lost her mentor but her belief in basic decency, graciousness of being human! She hoped that someday she would be able to pick up the broken glasses of faith and mend them. Even then, the cracks would still be visible and the pieces would still bear the blood from her shredded heart.