A Life Renewed

The sun glared upon the bare plain. Hari Prasad flopped down under a dying tree. He was profusely sweating and panting.

Hari Prasad was an old man who had been forced to beg on the streets for a living. The Zamindar had snatched away Hari Prasad’s strip of land and hut. Even his own family which consisted of his son and daughter-in-law had turned him away.

Hari Prasad heard a rumbling noise. He looked up to see that the Zamindar had stopped his car in front of him.

“Hari Prasad!” said the Zamindar

“Long time no see. Where have you been?” He grinned slyly.

“Just earning my living around here, master.” Hari Prasad replied quietly.

“The heats of Rajasthan have taken a turn for the worst, hasn’t it?”

“Yes master. And it has been more difficult ever since you took my hut away.”

The Zamindar laughed sarcastically.

“Come on now. Don’t keep grudges against anyone. I must leave now for I am out on a trip and we have a feast at the Royal Mansion today.”

The drought had taken a toll on the crops but the Zamindar did not seem to care.

The car rumbled and disappeared in no time.

Hari Prasad sighed. He unpacked his lunch of one chapatti which was stale and wrapped in a dry leaf. His former neighbour’s wife was kind enough to spare it out of her kitchen which did not consist of much. The Zamindar was plotting to take over their land and hut as well. He wanted to build another Haveli which is why he had taken over Hari Prasad’s land as well.

But his neighbour, Devadatta had a son who lived in the city. He was looking for work there. Hari Prasad believed that if Devadatta was ousted from his home, He could go to the city and stay with his son. But Hari Prasad was lost. He had no one except his son and daughter in law to look to. Hari Prasad had travelled to the village beside on foot to go to his son and daughter in law. His son Laxman Prasad, was a primary school teacher there. But they too had turned him away from their doorstep believing him to be a burden. Hari Prasad was devastated. “This is the son for whose education I have toiled day and night on my field.” He thought. “This is the son who my wife and I fed and stayed hungry for days ourselves. This is the son for whose wedding my wife had sold all her jewelry.”

Hari Prasad’s wife, Jamuna had died of heartbreak when the Zamindar had taken over their home and land. But then too, Laxman Prasad had not turned up for the funeral. He had never acknowledged his parents for the sacrifices that they had made for him. Hari Prasad was thankful to God for taking his beloved Jamuna away earlier for if she were alive to see that her dear son had turned against her, her pain would be unimaginable. 

Hari Prasad devoured the stale chapatti slowly. He wanted to make it last for as long as he could.

He sighed. If only he had his dear…

“Baba!” came a voice.

Hari Prasad turned around to see a dark-skinned girl with large eyes wearing a beautiful Leheriya Saree and carrying a bag on her shoulder. He squinted owing to his poor eyesight.

“Kamala?!” he asked.

“Yes Baba.” Kamala replied. Tears of joy flowed down her cheeks.

She sat down beside Hari Prasad.

“Baba are you okay?” Kamala was worried for her father.

“Yes beta.” Hari Prasad smiled.

He looked into his daughter’s eyes and was reminded of everything that had happened in the past.

Hari Prasad and Jamuna had decided to marry off their only daughter to a man who was thirty years senior to her and who had promised to take no dowry. Kamala who was only sixteen objected greatly. She was an ambitious young girl who had seen her Bhaiya get an education and wanted to get one herself. But Hari Prasad and Jamuna did not agree. They tried to explain to her how education was not beneficial for a woman. But, Kamala was determined. And so, on the day of her wedding Kamala ran away. The groom was furious. With great difficulty, Jamuna and Hari Prasad had arranged the sum of money he had demanded and calmed him.

What had happened next Hari Prasad did not know.

Kamala had turned up for her mother’s funeral. She was informed by Devadatta’s daughter who had travelled to the next village to call Kamala at her address. Kamala had earlier phoned the village and asked them to relay her address to Devadatta’s daughter in case of an emergency.

But when Kamala reached the village, she was treated coldly.

“Baba please.” She had pleaded. “Please come away with me.”

“No!” Hari Prasad had shouted. “You are no daughter of mine. I will go and stay with your Bhaiya and Bhabhi.”

Kamala could not argue anymore. She respected her Bhaiya and believed that he would take good care of her Baba. But she was shattered to hear that her Baba did not think of her as his daughter. She was too shaken by her mother’s untimely death to explain to her father that what she had done was for the best.

Hari Prasad did not ask Kamala what she did and where she stayed and she did not tell him either in fear of his wrath. He did not accept the money which Kamala had tried to give him.

A few days later Kamala returned from where she had come. But Hari Prasad had refused to bless her. Kamala had left in tears.

“Baba?”

Kamala’s voice jerked Hari Prasad out of his thoughts.

“Kamala, what had you done after you ran away from your wedding?” he asked

“I was confused and so I made my way to the train station deciding that I would board the next train and go to wherever it would take me.” Kamala said “But the station master caught me for boarding without a ticket. He called the police to whom I narrated my story. They were kind and arranged for me to be taken to a woman’s shelter in the city. There I got an education in the night school. During the day I would work as a domestic help. This way, I completed my education. Then I decided that I was interested in stitching. Do you remember how Ma taught me to stitch?”

Hari Prasad nodded. His eyes were moist.

“I started stitching clothes for people in the neighbourhood using a sewing machine in the shelter. Now, I work for a boutique. I earn for myself. Sometimes I also visit the woman’s shelter to help the women there.”

Hari Prasad nodded. He was crying.

“Please forgive me darling. I was wrong to have not listened to you. The son I adored has turned his back against me. I thought you were a curse but in reality, the are a gift from god.”

“No Baba. Do not say that. But please bless me.”

Hari Prasad wiped his tears and blessed his daughter when she touched his feet.

“Now come with me. We can live together in the small flat which I have rented.”

Hari Prasad hugged his daughter. Today he was proud of her.

Together, they walked towards the train station in search of a fresh and happy life.