She stood at a distance, looking at the dilapidated building that had intrigued her ever since she was a kid. Mamta had had no friends ever since she was a kid. Things had not changed yet.
Mamta was the eldest of five daughters of a poor farmer in the village. She was not pretty like her younger sisters and was, therefore, considered a misfortune for the family. Her parents had tried to find a groom for her but had failed miserably. No one was interested in a poor, ugly young lady. Lately, her father had taken to drinking due to all the problems that had befallen the family; all, apparently, due to Mamta. Five unmarried daughters. But thing had started looking up for a few days. A young man from a respectable family had agreed to take Mamta as a bride, and that too for no dowry at all. She was happy and respected the man for respecting her feelings. She was to get married in a week’s time. She had no friends to bid farewell to; only that one haveli outside which she had found solace even in the most depressing times.
Only her mother knew about her fixation with the “Neeli Haveli”. She was uneducated but was open minded and had let her daughter enter the forbidden realms. That day, Mamta had told her mother that this would be the final farewell and she would never look back at the haveli.
She had never entered the place, not even stood at the courtyard. She felt strangely attached to the place but was scared. What if the myths were true? What if the haveli was actually cursed? What if she imbibed the contagious curse and added to her family’s already overflowing bucket of miseries? But, this one time she felt a force pulling her in. She needed to know. Unlike so many other such houses, there was no story attached to it. If this was to be the only chance she had left, she wanted to meet her friend of years and bid a proper farewell.
She approached the house. Her feet trembled but she kept going. She pushed the door and surprisingly, it was open. She had not expected this. Somewhere, deep inside her heart, her fear had wanted to see the journey come to an end even before it started. But it was not to be. Some greater force was operating that day.
The corridor she entered was completely dark except for the light that came from the open courtyard door at its end. Not knowing where else to go, she followed the light and finally stepped out onto an unprotected balcony. It took some time for her eyes to get accustomed to the sudden sunshine. When they did, she perceived the blue surroundings. Slowly, she began looking around. She saw a staircase to her left. But when her eyes followed that staircase, she saw something that made her scream.
That lady was sitting at the bottom of the staircase in a manner which made it seem as if she had been that way for ages. Mamta had wanted to run away but something about the old women made her stop. She stood transfixed. Her tongue was tied and her legs had become stone. Just then she spoke; the old women. She called out, “Mamta, I knew you would come in today, so I left the door open.”Mamta was shocked. Firstly, she had expected the place to be empty and unkempt and if it did have habitants, she had not expected them to know her name.
“Do come down, my dear. Let me feel your touch for the one last time before he takes you away forever.” Mamta did not move. She did not know what was happening. She must be asleep, she thought. “You, of all people, should not hesitate to come near me, my child. Do not cause any further delay. I have waited for too long.”And then she looked up. That lined face, those old spectacles, that white saree, the blue shawl and the mixed expression of dejection and happiness. Mamta felt pulled. She descended the steps and stood beside her and finally found her voice. She asked, “Who are you? Do you live here alone? How do you know my name and how do you know that this would be my last visit?” “So inquisitive, are you? You want all the answers at once. Alright. Yes, I know your name and I have known it since you were a little kid and you started coming here. My name is Asha. And I have lived in this house for the past fifty years. I never go out. I have no idea how much teh village has changed since the last time I stepped out. No one ever visits me except Ramesh, the poor farmer in the next farm. He never lets anyone know for the fear of being ostracised. He was the one who found out your name for me.”
She became quite after this. Mamta waited. Asha began again. “My husband was the rich zamindar of the village. This haveli belongs to his family. I had come here as a bride and I shall breathe my last in this very place. He was a good man and cared for me. We were happy. But then the problems started. He died and left me alone. I had no one; not even a child. I lost interest in life and left this place to God’s Grace. I would have died too but for the little ray of hope that God kindled within me. You started visiting. For me, you became everything; my lifeline. I used to wait for you and peep out of my window. I used to cry when I saw you crying, my child. And then I heard you were getting married. At this her voice chocked. Mamta did not realise the presence of tears in her own eyes.
Slowly Asha stood up and moved down to the landing and opened the black door to a sort of store room. “Come, my child. I have something for you.”Mamta moved closer and was taken aback when she peered into the room. It had the most beautiful jewellery, clothes and utensils lined up against the walls. “This is a gift for your marriage.”And then she slid down the door and sat down on the floor. She was crying. She said, “Be happy, my dear Mamta. May your husband keep you happy. Hold me once close to you so that I may die in peace!”
Mamta fell to her feet and hugged the lady. “Amma! I have always been the burden of the family. I have had no friends. No one cared for me. But now I am satisfied.”With this she felt a slump. She moved away. The lady had a smile on her face. Her eyes were closed and her face was peaceful. She had died. Died in the arms of the daughter she never had...
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