Girja's Eyes

Where ever we go, whatever we achieve, there is always a desire of going back “Home”.

“Home”: The dictionary defines it both as a place of origin as well as the ultimate goal.

But there she is “Girja”  for whom only the first dictionary definition of home serves the purpose, because she is not among those who are going to decide her ultimate goal. And hence her ultimate end looks nowhere like home, not even a word near it.  

I met Girja two years back, during my trip to “basti” a village in Uttarakhand.

A cool breeze swung through my face as I got out of the bus and it swiped away all the Delhi’s heat that had gotten me pack my bags and head to my massi’s place, Basti.

Basti, synonymous to its name is a gathering of a few families, who live together forming a bigger family. There I came across so many genuine smiles. People had innocent curiosity to know me ,  who I was as a person, where did I belong to, rather than just interacting to get one or the other work done.

Though the weather was all cold and windly, the people there had a warm and a huge heart. As a few days passed I was always seen among the people sitting at this age old and village’s only tea stall which belonged to Kaka. Kaka, who was a peculiar character, believed in old customs and rituals and was very adamant and tough, but the rest of him was soft.

This stall used to the gossip centre of whole of the basti. There we used to have several debates on the modern style of living, of which I was the only supporter, and the old traditional values.

One such day, while having the daily dose of tea, my eyes just met two very beautiful eyes from inside of kaka’s kitchen, though the glance was momentary, there was a particular gloominess about them. That day though I returned back home but my heart and mind was left in that kitchen only. The whole night I was waiting for the greyness of night to meet the crimson of dawn. And the moment that happened I went for a long walk, thinking about those eyes and there strange gloominess. And then finally with a lot of courage I knocked Kaka’s door. I was really sceptical that in such long discussions he never mentioned his girl who was almost the same age as I was. After knocking the door I prayed for the spite of God. The door opened, kaka after seeing me, rubbed his age old thick glasses and in his very own style, shouted I don’t think we open the shop this early, you may come latter. I explained that I didn’t come for tea, hearing this he shouted back then I don’t think I serve anything other than tea. Maintaining all my cool at the above and gathering all the courage I had from inside, I said “kaka I came here to meet the girl whom I saw last evening in your kitchen, he told she was his daughter and pointed to a small curtained corner of the house and shouted “Girja” “Girja”. A girl came out, very conscious and suspicious of my presence. It seemed as if I was the only person she had seen in months other than kaka. I was not able to understand why kaka was not able to look through his own daughter’s eyes and realise the pain she is trying to hide, that herculean task, she set for herself, but was unaware that, her own eyes were not supporting her in this task, because anyone other than kaka could make out that her heart is deeply grieved. May be kaka was also aware but was adamant enough on his own philosophy over his own daughter’s happiness. Realising that presence of kaka will not at all help me in getting to know the reason of Girja’s  grief, I asked kaka, if could go on a walk with Girja. He exchanged his looks with Girja and then with me, and with a bit of reluctance he agreed.

As we went out I tried to be friendly and natural with her. I started with how much I liked the weather and the village and of course the people. She spoke very scarcely, but I kept on trying but it was of no use. Then,  I asked her about her friends and the school and that was the point, I broke the wall she had surrounded around herself and she cried, she cried out hard. I held her close to myself and allowed all the grief to let go through crying. She started speaking, “all the things in my life just changed after Maa suffered a stroke and died 2 years ago, I was as close to Maa as I’m far off Baba. Maa used to be a very strong lady and with very high values. She used to fight with Baba, over my rights, my needs and my wishes.

 My tenth class final exam were about to come, when she just left me all alone. Baba never supported the education of girls, he was worried about me going alone to Vidya peeth high school which was in kancha, a village next to basti.

I was not even able to come out of the grief of Maa’s death, that Baba, stopped my school, at that time I hardly had my senses and didn’t say a thing. And another week passed and I heard Baba, discussing at the Tea stall, about my marriage. I was just sixteen back then, and Baba decided on my marriage. Where as in school even Masterni- Sahibaa told that this age is to study to become something and I always wanted to be just like her teaching and educating the girls like us who belong to small villages. Even the slightest thought of marriage, started giving goose bumps all over my body. I was very scared, about Baba asking me, actually not asking, just ordering me to get married. I have been very scared of baba all through my life, I was unable to even talk to him properly, it always used to be Maa, who took care of my wishes, who even fought with baba for me. Rejecting on his decision of getting married this early, was just out of question for me to do.

 And finally the day came, when he told me that a Man is going to come and see me the next day. I started shivering, he just went out to the tea stall, uttering that “whatever I’m doing is just for your own good”.

And the next day a Man aging around 40 came, I was just shocked that he will be the one, Baba told that he is a very rich Zamindaar. Latter I got to know that he had been married earlier and had two sons from the ex-wife. They decide for my marriage in the end of the year. I stopped thinking of my life as my own, just left the strings in the hands of the world and the society. And they got me married to a person even more than twice my age, and I like a dummy followed all the rituals. They say a girl after marriage leaves one home and decorates another, for me after Maa left me none of the homes served any purpose. And this new home, it was just impossible to manage, my husband and the sons had no attachment to me. I was just like a showpiece and a thing to shed off anger for my husband. He was a chronic drinker and it took his life within 6 months of our marriage and to my shock I had no grief, I was just relieved and came back to baba’s once again. Baba now feels guilty on his decision and blames himself for the worst that happened in my life. I had lost any interest in life.

Then one day I saw you sitting at the tea stall, sharing your views on the social issues which have been pertaining from ages in the small villages like ours. I just started admiring you, I saw you as a young independent girl talking very confidently among the bunch of males about her own views. And all my dreams just came back to my mind for a moment when, yesterday I came at the window to look at you. But my dreams can never be my reality.”

 I dropped her back home assuring and we decided to talk to Kaka for starting on her education again, and I assured her that everything will be fine.

Thinking of her aggrieved eyes and the painful story, I thought of so many Girjas living in so many small villages in our country who are just doomed to embrace their destiny without their consent and my heart sank low for all of them,

बाबुल मोहे राजा घर ना दीजो ,

मोहे राज- पाढ़ ना भाये...

बाबुल मोहे ज़मींदार घर भी ना दीजो ,

मोहे धन- धान्य ना भाये ...

बाबुल मोहे सुनार घर भी  ना दीजो, 

मोहे जेवर- जवाहरात ना भाये ...

बाबुल मोहे लोहार घर ही दीजो, 

जो मोरी जंजीर पिघलाए ...

मन के पिजरे में लगे,

मोरे ताले  तुडाये …

पिंजरे से निकल उड़ चलु,

में भी उस नील गगन की ओर ,

सुना बहुत है बारे में जिस के,

पर जंजीर तले देख जिसे ना पाई कभी ...   

बाबुल मोहे लोहार घर ही दीजो, 

जो मोरी जंजीर पिघलाए  …

जो मोरी जंजीर पिघलाए  ...

And later we were able to convince Kaka to start on Girja’s education again.

Although this Girja somehow got another chance.

 But being on the other side of wall, the question poses on all of us that how many such Girjas we would stand up to save? Sadly enough the question yet remains unanswered, although we call our self an independent Nation since 1947.