AcharyadevoBhava??

I was returning from my hometown to Delhi by train. It is a real long journey, and quite monotonous if you have been already done with your laptop. Fortunately, a lady was also traveling sitting opposite to me. She couldn’t have been more than twenty five years, though she seemed careworn. She was travelling with a young girl. After my lunch, I went up to the door to get a whiff of fresh air, when I suddenly saw that little girl running up and down the corridor, playfully. After sometime, she came running towards the door where I was standing and I caught her in her stride and told her with a grin that she had been wandering too long and she needed to get back to her guardian. I decided to escort her back to her seat. When I reached her seat I saw that the lady travelling with her was nowhere to be found.

Not more than five minutes had passed when that lady came running towards our seats, with a great cloud of anxiety all over her face. It was evident that she was very worried, or to put it better she was scared. I put up my most presentable face and with a genuine smile I said to her that she need not worry that much because all the passengers were very honest and civilized people. I thought that it would ease the situation and her anxiety but evidently she was not relieved. She smiled very sarcastically and thanked me in a cold voice and pulled the child back into her lap and sat down.

I was surprised at her lack of modesty, and decided to delve the matter further. I struck up a conversation with her. And in due time I asked her what was her relationship to the child. “I am her mother”, she replied in the same cold voice she had used before on me, but now it seemed that her tone was of a wounded person, and something in her tone intrigued me. I kept the conversation alive for some time discussing about trivial matters and then I asked about the kid’s father. “I am a single mother”, she retorted. I was shocked and a bit abashed by her way of replying, and immediately understood that I was trespassing on some very private matter of her. That very moment I apologised for being too inquisitive and returned to my world of boredom. I don’t know whether it was my “good-looks”, or my “charismatic” attitude, or because I had kept an eye on the little girl; but the lady started to soften up, and started pouring out her heart to me.

She was just seventeen when she was having an affair with her private tutor. She was deeply, desperately and quite madly in love with him. Within a year or so they got quite intimate with each other and started exploring new avenues of her physical self with him. Naturally, she got pregnant. When she conveyed this “happy” news to her beloved, he, instead of supporting her with the idea of marriage, denied the fact of being the father of the newcomer and turned her down. She even accused her of infidelity, and turned tail. She was angry, disgusted, depressed and forlorn; and turned to her parents for help. But they forced her for abortion. She wanted to keep the baby. But her parents were rigid on their decision of abortion as they were afraid of what others would say. In our society it is impossible to rear a baby that has no father; May be according to some it is even a sin to give birth to a premature child. So if they did not abort the baby they would be turned into social outcasts. But she was adamant and unswayed; and did not feel that she had the right to destroy a life. Marriage to someone was impossible for her as our tradition and society still dictates that to marry; a girl should be “aksata-yoni”, a virgin. It has been referred in the “Vedas”, the “Mahabharata” and almost everywhere that we hold true and pure. And sadly, this twenty first century world believes the same.

So, she went against all odds and gave birth to the baby. She moved out from her parent’s place and settled separately with her baby. She had already passed high school, so she got a job and started to support herself and her baby out of her meagre income. She had to face many hardships as society didn’t accept a prenuptial (or premarital) baby and her single mother. People criticized her, some on her face and some on her back; but she fought against everything, with only one dream driving her, to raise her baby properly. As the baby grew, people even pinched her about her father. They gave her names (out of which ‘illegitimate’ is the most presentable, others are worse) which started affecting the baby. She felt desolate and forlorn and even sometimes she blamed her mother for giving her birth. Still the lady kept her calm and made the child understand the whole situation. Things got even worse when she went for her daughter’s admission, as every school in the city demanded the name of the father of the girl which she was unable to provide.

Tired and helpless of such situation and unable to bear the constant gnawing of the society at their lives, she applied for a job in Delhi for which she was selected. She is going to Delhi to take up that job, and with renewed hope in her heart that maybe the capital would approve a mother to be the sole and efficient guardian of a child. Maybe she won’t have to face such problems in a place where no one knows her. Maybe her child won’t have to lose the opportunity of studying in a good school just because some coward denied his responsibility for their daughter, which was her birth-right.

It felt really good to know her and her fight against our “paralysed” and “decrepit” society. We have reached an era which is modern but its values are still rooted in the era of the “Mahabharata”. Though we should not forget our values, still progress over the ruinous mentality should be achieved in order to make this world a “Kingdom of Heaven”. In the “Mahabharata”, Kunti conceived a prenuptial baby with the Sun God Surya which she abandoned in a basket in the river, as prenuptial baby was a taboo in the then society. She shirked her responsibility as a mother and left her child to an unknown fate. Having a prenuptial baby is a taboo still now. Kunti, fearful that her virginity would be lost to Surya, pleaded the God to go back. But Surya however assured that even after being blessed with a son, she would still remain “aksata-yoni” (as was the custom in those days and till now for unmarried girls), and would not suffer any opprobrium.

But it really feels great that today’s “Kunti” is vocal. She can fight against the society, even her own parents and keep the child; suckle it, nourish it, and do everything to fulfil its need. She doesn’t need the child’s irresponsible and weakling father for their support. It made me think that if “Kunti” can change then why can’t the society and its entire “civilised” people change? Should we still cling on to some of the values of the era of the “Mahabharata”, which are despairing and derelict, or should we strive to broaden our sense of humanity?

After having an engaging conversation with her, I retired to take a nap. As soon as I looked out of the window I saw that the sun was setting down and preparing for the coming of the night. The day had ended. The Sun would rise again over horizon the next day, and maybe it would bring a sliver lining of hope for the lady, maybe it would take us all out of the darkness that we are engulfed in right now. But as of now, I do not know as there is darkness all around and night is coming. But I still do hope that one day will come when the purity of heart will be given more preference over the virginity of a woman.

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My blissful sleep was suddenly interrupted today morning by the loud, gruffy voice of our maid. She was probably arguing with my wife over any of her probable agendas – overwork, low wage or lack of holidays. I grudgingly rolled down from my bed, went to the balcony and let the clear morning refresh my whole being. It was a Sunday and I had hoped to sleep late. But my maid had other intentions. I called out to my wife for my tea, freshened up and sat on the easy-chair, relaxed, and started enjoying the morning. But a single similar incident came up from the deep abyss of my mind and flashed before my eyes as if it were yesterday.

I was very young then (maybe around ten). My Sunday slumber was rudely affected because of our maid who was crying remorsefully in front of my mother. My room was just beside the kitchen and I could hear their voices, my mother trying to console our maid, who was sobbing noisily and trying to explain something to my mom.  With much anger because of being robbed of my sleep, I sat up on the bed and tried to devise the best possible way to idle away my time until I was to “officially” wake up. Nothing came to my mind and somewhat inattentively I started to take in their conversation.

But I heard our maid use a strange, new word repetitively during her conversation, which made me seat up attentively in an attempt to evesdrop on the ongoing commotion. She kept on using the word “Prostitute” again and again, quoting what her husband told her. It seemed to me that she was actually not putting up a fight infront of my mother, but instead, was complaining about something she really felt bad about in her personal life, back home. From the bits and pieces I could collect from her conversation, what I made out was that her husband was an alcoholic and never had any knack of getting a job or doing something respectable to sustain their family. She is the only bread winner for the 4 member family and her wages supported the education of her two children and the eccentricities of her husband. Recently, her husband’s demands have been rising and he wanted more and more money from her. She has been denyin outrightly to give any more money to him and they have been having a very hot argument over the last few days. Things worsened by now  and her husband has started bringing some of his friends and acquaintances to their house when their children go to school. And the wicked, selfish man has now gone to the extent of letting his friends, ravish her in return for money. If she protested, he told that he would let out this “dirty secret” to their children. But she couldn’t let that happen. She often thought of running away from her husband with her children, but is unable because her children love their father very much and they would be devastated if separated from him. So, she has to go through this intolerable torture every day, and it has been over a year since all these had started, and is still going on. She had been turned into a “prostitute”.

I could not grasp the whole meaning of the conversation and all these heavy words were already putting me back to sleep. But I did remember the word “prostitute” because it was said with such contempt that the word got etched forever in my brain. Later, when I grew up, I did understand the meaning of that word, and could feel in my heart the contempt, and my ears rang with the pitiful sobs of our maid. Maybe for the first time in my life I felt real hatred against a fellow human being.

Prostitution obviously is just like any other profession; but only for them who are in it by choice; though I do feel that most women would never take up this profession willingly. Is it correct to force someone into something? Are women some commodity which can be traded for money, or any other gains? This brings us face to face with the Indian epic “Mahabharata” where Draupodi, the wife of the five Pandavas, was put at stake in a game of dice, and when the game was lost she was disrobed in front of all in the court of Hastinapur. Their husband watched the heinous act without any protest. I was faced with the same question which Draupadi asked the whole court, did her husbands have any right to put her at stake? Or rather, does any husband possess the right to put his wife at stake? During marriage, a husband takes the divine vow of protecting her wife and upholding her honour at any cost. Did it happen then? Is it happening now? Are we better than our forefathers? Some questions don’t have answers, because we do not possess the courage to find them.

I do not know what had happened to our maid. Was there some Krishna too who came to the aid of our maid ? Or he was present just in the “satya yug” and not in this “Kaliyug”??  She just stopped coming to our house after about a year of that Sunday. None had any news of her. “Here is your tea”. My wandering mind was brought at the bay of reality by the sweet voice of my wife. I looked at her face and wondered how can anyone desecrate such a sacred relationship? I thanked her twice for the extra liquor she had put into the tea and turned my mind towards the day’s newspaper.

My tea was finished and I was still benevolently absorbed in the newspaper when suddenly an advertisement caught my eye. The details of a massage parlour was given along with a phone number in the personal column. I couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe it was sarcastic. Or maybe the laugh was intended for our helplessness. We all know the truth behind such “massage parlours”. They are nothing but a front for “sophisticated prostitution”. But do we care? Have we ever wondered about the cruel fate faced by countless women who are lured here, or have to take up this profession due to some pang of desperation?  And the society says nothing. It does nothing but watch; in the same way the whole court of Hastinapur watched the disrobing of Draupadi, maybe with shocked but silent faces. They did nothing to stop such a sin. That day, only the great warrior Bhishma offered any kind of explanation for her ill fate to Draupadi. He said, “The course of morality is subtle and even the illustrious wise in this world fail to always understand it.”

Has that era passed? Has anything changed? How long will we wait for the subtle course of morality to take its proper course? Husbands themselves still put their wives at stake, while the society watches their disrobing silently. Even the birds chirping outside my window couldn’t make me happy anymore as they always did. I felt cold, naked. Something was gnawing inside my heart, the same bug that is gnawing at the very roots of our civilization and destroying every single seed of ethics that it ought to have.

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