The Journey

Bhagwati sat dejected gazing towards the calm expanse of the Ganges. Her clouded vision preventing her from seeing the scene which was so clear in her mind – the cremation of Madhu, the support through her journey.

It was then that Sushila stepped out of the ancient structure where lived several young and old widows, ostracized by society. Sushila, a young widow lacked the spirit and zeal that a 20 year old possesses. Her eyes did not have sparkling dreams, just a curtain of sadness which covered the sorrow inside her. Sushila sat beside Bhagwati and began describing the funeral ceremony taking place on the banks – faintly visible from where they sat.

The words of Sushila fell on deaf ears. The listener was far away in her thoughts, going through the seventy years of her life.

Bhagwati could still faintly remember the day when she, a ten year old, was dressed in red and gold. The henna on her palms and the crimson bangles on her wrist made her feel special. She was a princess unlike her other friends. The excitement continued throughout the ceremony complete with a priest and a lot of noise and laughter. She, was now married to a sixty year old, to whose other wives, Bhagwati was a child. Her excitement began to ebb the moment she left her family behind and went with a horde of strangers. Thus began her journey of life.

Each day after the wedding was clouded in darkness. Her life was full of atrocities and exploitations. Forced wishes and unfulfilled dreams. From being the darling in her parental home she was now a slave in the hands of her husband. Her state could make anyone ask why an innocent girl with no worldly sense would have to deal with such inhuman treatment. Was it fair?

But, even before she could fully understand her state or even comprehend what had happened, her husband died of cholera, leaving behind a twelve year old widow. If earlier her state was pathetic, this completely devastated it. Bhagwati was the reason, the cause, the unholy spirit which had brought doom on her husband. She had single-handedly claimed the life of the master of the house. Full of such negativity, the family handed over a sacred, sobbing widow to a ‘vidhwa ashram’ at Kashi.

Bhagwati was now subject to a completely new world, totally unknown to her. She came in contact with others like her, and learnt a new way of life. Colours were replaced by white – a way of showing penance, laughter and enjoyment was prohibited – a mark of penance, food was basic and almost non existent – a mark of penance. So much penance for “claiming” the life of a sixty two year old husband who had treated her worse than an animal. “But, such is life”, was the only reply of every elder she had asked this question to.

The only ray of joy now in her life was Madhu – another child widow who had come in a few weeks after Bhagwati. Together, they had accepted their fate, moved on in life and embraced the others who came in. From being chutki’s in the ashram they grew into being the amma’s. Their friendship was the only source of light in the darkness around them.

But now, the last ray was gone. The last hope, the one bond that lasted a lifetime was finally broken. Madhu was gone, gone forever, leaving behind Bhagwati with no will to live. She left behind a tired soul, waiting for the ultimate end to a long, exhausting journey.

- Shivani Satyarthi