Shantivan, the abode of Peace

Shantivan, the abode of Peace
(Short Story )
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Seated on a comfortable lounge chair upon the wide carpet of grass in 'Shantivan' garden before her house, Sunayana basked in the tender rays of the rising Sun. It was a soft February morning. Though the Sun had already risen somewhat above the horizon, the dewdrops that had settled on the grass during the night still sparkled like pearls in the sunlight.

Her pet cat came running and curled up in her lap, purring contentedly. Seeing this, the myna bird in its cage chirped restlessly, as if pleading, “Take me too, take me too.” Meanwhile, her pet dog Shakila approached the chair, wagging its tail and whining softly while gazing up at her face—it too was eager for affection.
From the porch of a nearby temple, flocks of pigeons flew toward the Champua hills. Sunayana’s cottage, named “Shanti Nivas,” stood in the middle of Shantivan ,not far from the village. The place was blessed with the abundance of nature and seemed enchanted with the eternal mantra of serenity. Anyone who sat there even for a short while would forget hunger and thirst.

Two years earlier, seeking liberation from the mechanical oppression of Western civilization, Sunayana had left the city of Detroit in America and come to live here. Behind her she had left a vast sky filled with deceit, distrust, betrayal, and suffering. Here she had found a handful of tranquil sky—a soothing grove of peace,ie her 'Shantivan'.

Yet memories of the past often weighed heavily on her mind. She had been born into a middle-class family in the village of Chakrapada near Kendrapada. From childhood, Sunayana had been ambitious. She dreamed of studying hard, going abroad, earning great wealth, and living a life of luxury and comfort. She had always been a bright student and often spoke proudly before others about her colorful dreams for the future.

Many friends and relatives mocked and ridiculed her for those dreams. But the more she was ridiculed, the stronger her determination to go abroad became. Though her mother and grandmother did not support her ambition, her father encouraged her, and thus the golden bird of her dreams finally grew wings. After successfully passing the higher secondary examination, she began studying computer engineering.

Many marriage proposals came for her, but none appealed to her. All the prospective grooms were employed either in Odisha or in other Indian cities. Marrying any of them would mean that her dream of going abroad would remain unfulfilled. So she published a matrimonial advertisement in the media, clearly stating one condition that the groom must be employed abroad.

After examining many responses, she selected a man named Meenaketan.
For their first meeting, Meenaketan had to travel all the way from America. At the very first glance at Sunayana’s extraordinary beauty, he lost his composure—as though his wicket had fallen to the very first ball. Sunayana, too, was deeply impressed by Meenaketan’s handsome appearance, his high position in America, and his refined manners.

As mutual attraction soon turned into consent for marriage, Meenaketan said,
“There is only one difficulty—I am an orphan. Therefore, your family will have to take responsibility for all the arrangements of the wedding.”

For Sunayana, what better proposal could there be? Her parents raised no objection. At that time, her father was a senior employee in the Secretariat at Bhubaneswar. Soon the date and time of the wedding were fixed.

After their marriage, the newlyweds went to Switzerland for their honeymoon. Fifteen days later they returned from Switzerland, and Meenaketan left Sunayana in Bhubaneswar before flying back to America.

He had promised to return within a month. But six months passed and he did not come back. Tormented by separation, Sunayana called him every day, pleading with him to take her to America. Each time she received the same answer:
“It will be better if you come here after completing your engineering, Nayana. Listen to me—don’t be stubborn. I am so busy here that it is impossible for me to come now.”

After six months, Sunayana’s patience broke. Taking his address, she traveled to Detroit one day and reached there. What she saw there was beyond belief. It felt as though the sky had shattered over her head.

In that very house, Meenaketan was living with a foreign wife and two children.
Meenaketan was not at home that day. Showing her wedding photographs and certificate, Sunayana tried to prove to the woman that she was Meenaketan’s lawful wife. The woman listened sympathetically and said:
“You have been trapped, sister. Meenaketan is a drunken devil. Every now and then he goes to India for a month or two. Who knows how many women like you he has married there! I am already miserable living with him here. Every day he drinks and abuses me. I stay here only for the sake of my two children, bearing everything helplessly.”

That evening Meenaketan returned home, staggering with intoxication. Seeing Sunayana sitting in the drawing room, he laughed slyly and said:
“So, the holy cow has finally entered the butcher’s yard! Very good. I needed a maid here. Do the housework and you’ll get two meals a day. Otherwise, go back where you came from.”

Sunayana’s throat choked with emotion. Tears streamed from her eyes. She was in no condition to speak—she could only sob. The loving moments of their honeymoon in Switzerland flashed before her mind. Such deception ! Such betrayal !

But what could she do? She knew no one in that foreign city. She decided that the next day she would go to the police and seek justice.
But that very night a terrible incident occurred. Drunk and senseless, Meenaketan tried to assault her in the middle of the night. She screamed and struggled desperately to free herself from the demon’s grip. Hearing the commotion, his foreign wife rushed there holding a six-inch shining knife.
She shouted, “Leave at once, or I will stab you!”
But Meenaketan was too intoxicated to listen. He tried to snatch the knife, and a violent struggle broke out between them. In that scuffle the knife plunged into Meenaketan’s abdomen.

Seeing his blood-soaked body, the terrified woman fled the house in the middle of the night with her two children.
Stunned by the sudden turn of events, Sunayana sat there helplessly. She pulled the knife out of Meenaketan’s stomach and sprinkled water on his face, trying to revive him. But it was useless. After some time, his lifeless body lay still in the room.
In that strange and unfamiliar city, Sunayana did not know what to do. She lacked the courage even to inform her father—who suffered from high blood pressure—about the dreadful incident. Sitting beside the dead body, she spent the entire night in shock.

The next day the police arrested her, and her days began to pass in jail. The trial continued for a long time. Since Meenaketan’s first wife had disappeared, Sunayana had no evidence to prove her innocence. The court found her guilty and sentenced her to eight years in prison.
After eight years she was released, but life continued to test her. She wandered from door to door seeking help, suffering rejection at many places. Finally, out of compassion, an elderly woman gave her shelter and employed her as a governess.

The childless woman grew fond of Sunayana’s devoted service. Before her death, she transferred the ownership of her estate to Sunayana.
After the old woman passed away, Sunayana abandoned the city of pain and betrayal. Drawn by the call of her motherland, she returned to her soil—to Shantivan. Selling all her properties in Detroit, she established Shantivan here along with an orphanage nearby.
In serving the poor, the destitute, and the helpless, she found a profound spiritual fulfillment and boundless peace.
To those who abandon their homeland in pursuit of foreign lands, she often says:
“Even a golden Lanka does not please me, O Lakshmana.
Mother and motherland are greater even than heaven.”

(Kulamani Sarangi )