GIRL POWER

Her eyes were like unheard stories. Kajal lined eyes to give the illusion of one who has been the bearer of untold miseries. Those well-guarded secrets, she kept close to her chest. God forbid if she even gave a hint of the atrocities committed, her life and the life of her children would be forever hounded.

Only one person was privy to her secrets. Her closest friend Smita whom she trusted completely. After all, Smita had been witness to the abuses she faced daily. Plates flung at her...why? The chapattis were not round and fluffy. The dal she cooked was a far cry from what his mother cooked. At every point, she was being compared to someone or the other, particularly his mother, falling far short of their skills in housekeeping. Even in bed, he cared little about her feelings. As long as his flesh was satisfied, he rolled off to sleep. And the irony was in that meeting of flesh against flesh she bore him two children, both girls, whom he never considered as his, going to the extent of insinuating they were the product of an adulterous relationship. How could she tell him that he was responsible for the gender of babies? He was so pig-headed, it was pointless to make him understand.

She took the bold step of getting her tubes tied unknown to him to stop unwanted pregnancies. That she bore him no son, enraged him. He took another wife. She too bore him two girls and similarly was treated with indignity. With Smita's passing, Mridula found a new friend in Shiela the new wife. They became fast friends and understood each other like no other.

The four girls grew up in a house of abuse and promised to teach their father a lesson. By the time he was in his seventies and more mellowed down, they decided to put him into a mental institute. He threw a fit, screamed, and clawed at his face, leaving deep scratches. "Do you think I'm mad?" he questioned.

"Pitaji...you are not only mad but your madness has accelerated to the extent that you are not fit to live amongst civil people. Look at how deeply you have hurt our mothers, hit them, and treated them like pieces of rags. As for us, you never cared to participate in our upbringing. Our mothers worked hard to give us an education, food in our stomachs, and good values to respect you. But now it's over, we can take care of ourselves and our aged mothers. We have a doctor's certificate declaring you insane. So, pack your bags as the Institution van will pick you up in an hour".

Shyam had no sons, but got a taste of Girl Power, when he least expected it.

There is a saying "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned".