The Well was waiting

The Well was a walk away from her House. Was Waiting for its victims she was sure. She took a few steps towards it. The sandstorm before the dawn was roaring spraying sand on her. Her steps faltered as she looked back towards the door ajar of the house supposed to be home after the marriage. Twelve years of life passed by her eyes shut loose protecting the sand raised by the storm from hurting her.

Should I take Durga too with me? What happens to her 5 year self after She her mother is no more? What happens if the Well does not accept her? Or If the Well accepts only her leaving Me her mother to regret?

Her own family she pardoned. For Her in-laws she prayed for just punishment. Her parents were too old too poor too dependent on wife of her brother her namesake Sister forced upon her by law.  

Her husband was far away from her. He had always left in the season to earn a living as a carpenter in a far off city she had visited only once in 12 years. In non season few months he would be here with her. But their small field consumed his time and body in sowing season he would return. Alchohol would finish whatever was still left in him. For her life was more cruel when he was home. Her in-laws rose to the occasion in his presence to shower choicest on her at every fault. His response was a slap that flung her light body at a corner of their dark bed room. Her friends at the Well said it is good for them.

Accept it all. Your time will come. But I have no son so no daughter-in-law would arrive in my life later. She wailed. That is the reason too for the slap and the spit. . they said.

Durga would grow and enter such a life? She had heard that the Well solves all this pain. But to take or not to take Durga with her was the question that stopped her besides the thorn berry tree.

She would meet the well alone.

She reached it stood at the spot opposite from where they drew stinking water from it to boil before they drank. That was a good site to fall straight in. She had heard from one who was pulled out in time that pain lasts a few minutes only. Less than that in the home delivery she had experienced she said. Water would rush in. Air gurgle out of Airways then the lungs. Pain wud stop sooner than you expect as it would knock your brains out. The pulled out woman was now frightened to do it again. She was waiting for life to be more painful than the experience to try the well again. They had no fans to hang neither such trees. Only huge thorn berry bushes in sandy soil all around. The wooden ledge of children's swing would not be proper to use she thought.

Walk. Take the next step. Forget Durga. May be some prince would give her better life far away from the Well. Forget husband in laws and parents.  

Parents, especially her mother would be sad but tears would not come out of her eyes she knew. They would just gaze at each other and skies for the loss.

Walk towards the Well. The Well was waiting for her. She winced as thorn pushed itself through her naked feet. She had forgotten to be careful wear torn slippers. But why wear when one has to remove them and the ghunghat oddhhnii cloth covering her chest at the Well?

She removed the cloth. Hung it folded on the ledge of the pulley. She gathered her strength, muttered some prayer her mother had taught her and looked down.

A face was looking back at her. Such a clear reflection in dirty slimy waters? Look again. The Face was real white with mouth open eyes Gazing as high towards head. Rest was seen as floating oddhni She had not removed Yes the women who survived told her all seems to have found strength to jump in. The Well had accepted her as her timing was before the dawn moonless night.

Now what? The Well was occupied for today. She had to just wail out loud for villagers to gather and finish the funeral. Police do post mortem. Press follows them and hurt the family with pestering questions for a week. Leaders come in to show those still alive that they care. All vanish after a week or nowadays a month. Leave them with their life and the waiting Well. She hopes Durga will get in time those who wish her really well.

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Inspired by Lady in Storm painting StoryMirror sent us to create a story