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Read a tale of endurance, will & a daring fight against Covid. Click here for "The Stalwarts" by Soni Shalini.

Prachi Madhukar

Abstract Children Stories Tragedy

4.5  

Prachi Madhukar

Abstract Children Stories Tragedy

Meera Dadi

Meera Dadi

4 mins
420


I am a girl, from a small town in India named Rakhalpur and the daughter of a Zamindar. The people here are kind and pure-hearted, always ready to help others. Unlike the cities, Rakhalpur has the smell of its soil, all the children and the elderly members of the family eat together and they wake up at five with the chickens. People here are still down-to-earth and attached to their roots. Though a few buildings and factories have found their place in the middle of the town, the hearts of the people still contain cultural ethnicity. The big cities cannot even stand in front of the traditional beauty of Rakhalpur, the place I love the most.

The only thing I loved more is Meera Dadi. Meera Dadi was a 62-year-old woman, who stayed near the river Saraswati making pots for her living, with her only family member, her paralyzed granddaughter Chikli. Chikli was a burden to this earth for the past ten years.

Meera Dadi’s family had been a very well-off family until one day, her only son and daughter-in-law met a fatal car accident. Fortunately, Chikli was saved but the accident gifted her life-long paralysis. Chikli was the only hope of Meera Dadi, her only reason to live!

Chikli stopped going to school the day she met with that accident. Her paralysis did not only snatch her health and education but also ceased her freedom.

With time, they started losing all the wealth they had, including their bungalow, to fill their sinful stomachs. So, to fulfil the need of the hour, Meera Dadi had to make and sell pots, being a pot vendor. Though she shifted to a small house with Chikli, on a small plot of land, she was always given due respect by the inhabitants of Rakhalpur. The Sahukars and Zamindars bowed down to her. Whenever she visited our home to sell pots, both my parents greeted and welcomed her, and asked her to sit on the sofa, which only a few people were asked to do. Meera Dadi was one of them!

Meera Dadi had a motherly figure. Her love and affection for the town dwellers were unparalleled. When she was well-off, she used to make and distribute kilos of Sandesh and Ghee-Laddoos, in every home in Rakhalpur during the festivals. Even Rajbhog cannot be compared with her Ghee-Laddoos. Everyone used to wait impatiently for her to come and distribute those.

The accident had a very dreadful impact on her life. But even after this unjust behaviour of God, she used to distribute laddoos during the festivals, though in lesser quantities, which was mostly because of lack of money. The accident could not dwindle her desire to live and change her benevolent nature. Whenever she came to our house to sell pots, she always brought our favourite orange toffees for all children. Her lovely smile and shine never went off her face. Indeed, her outer appearance did not remain majestic, but the beauty of her inner self never changed.

Everything was going smoothly when one day, we heard that Chikli is no more! The reason for Meera Dadi to live is no more! All the well-wishers of Meera Dadi went to take part in the funeral. For the first time, I saw her face swollen like a chipmunk, which might be because of crying. All of us, including her, knew that this was going to happen one day, but still, everybody cried. No one had any idea how Meera Dadi would survive this cruel act of fate! The glow of her face went off, she became pale and thin, and her white shiny hair lost its shine – all in a day! Many were ready to provide her shelter for the rest of her life but she did not go with anyone. Some of them kneeled and requested her not to stay alone for at least that night, but she lent them deaf ears. When she did not leave the place of Chikli’s funeral after a lot of pleading, everyone went home hopelessly. The next day, we all went to have a look at Meera Dadi, but by that time, her soul had left her body.

The storm had come to an end. Now, there was nothing to mourn at. But still, none of the citizens of Rakhalpur was happy. Everyone was missing the presence of a cheerful soul. She was blessed to have us with her, but we were blessed more to have her with us!


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