Silent Prayers

I am Mithali 12 year old, from the last memories I recall, I only saw maa cooking, cleaning and papa eating, and humiliating mom. Papa is a contractor in a construction company. We are a family who saves a bit of money and spends even lesser. I have two brothers younger to me. In a two-room broken house, we have our world. It starts as papa goes working on cycle and stops with the sound of his tring tring cycle bell coming back.

Three of us go to govt school. And once we leave maa do stitching work without letting papa know about it. 

Every night before papa returns maa make sure that three of us eat and sleeps. As I grew up I have been pretending to sleep. But soon after papa finishes the food. Sounds of screams and crying would haunt me for hours. Papa would take out all day's frustration on maa. But maa would never let this spill out to us. Every morning she would get up after morning chorus would wake us up like she had a sound sleep.

Everyday her body would have new bruises on her lean body. 

She would keep the torcher as a secret from us.

And in return, I would secretly pray every day to god for her happiness. 

Days passed, maa became weaker, but papa was turning more barbaric.

And so I started to pray silently more and more for maa. Every temple, mosque, divine idol I cross, I would pray for maa's freedom from pain.

Who knew that a knock on the door would answer my prayers. Around 9 at night a few people arrived at the door, they got papa's cycle, an envelope with some money stuffed in.

They were asking maa not to go to the police, and maa was sobbing.

I rushed to support maa and heard dad accidentally fall down from the crane at the construction site. And his manager gave us a bribe for shutting the case and silently collecting papa's body.

Maa had nothing to say. My reactions were mixed. I was sad about maa. But nothing for papa. He never behaved like one with me. He hated me for being a girl child.

I was somewhere thanking God for maa freedom.

Things went on. Relatives gathered, cried, supported maa. Some made maa feel more miserable on her destiny. She was a widow now.

After spending a few weeks at granny's house, we four came back. I wanted to throw away that cycle also. But maa wanted to save it as papa's memory. 

I will not say that now we were very happy but for sure we were not sad too. Maa never cried screamed in pain anymore.

Everyday she would wake up fresh with no body marks. 

Soon maa openly started her stitching work. She got a job in a school to train girls on stitching.

Now we save and spend both. At times maa would take us to Mela, or nearby ice cream shop. Both my brothers are also growing well.

I am happy seeing my silent prayers been answered by god. After all, maa's the freedom I asked for.

Memories of papa still come, but with them comes to pains of Maa. So i really don't wish to miss papa more.