“Welcome,O stranger” was how she would greet every passenger who wished to stop and drink for some water while passing through that lonely desert..
It been six years since her husband died..She was only 20 years old. Being married off at an early age of 14 she probably didnt even know or understand the concept of a husband.
Her wedding day, the most awaited day, the day which was supposed to be her happiest, the day which was supposed to be her best turned into a nightmare into her eyes. All her dreams,her wishes were swept away in that flood of gloom. The wedding day is probably the most important day for any girl….Atleast for her it was.
The party which was to arrive at her doorstep with the bridegroom did come..only with his cadaver…Bitten by a snake..the villagers said. Poisened terribly, the guy choked in his own vomit.
“All because of her.She killed her husband. She is a dayaan, a witch” .Poor girl, little had she known the day she first wore jwellery will be her last, the day when she would finally wear a saree would be accompanied by days of torn clothes and hatred
She was condemned to that desert.Deserted by her own people. Thought upon by others to be a witch.Slapped.Beaten.Raped. Thrown away in that old shackle.Left to die
Tofay is 6 years to that event. This girl now 21 is known as the Passerby’s angel. I wont take the name of her town. Lest she be in trouble.. The queer thing about this place is that no passerby goes by thirsty kr hungry. The widow is there for all of them.
Its said people who dont possess amything possess a heart of gold. Hers was made up of diamonds. Otherwise I have not known any other survivor having so much love for mankind, the mankind which left her to rot and die….
One day a wounded soldier came through the forest. Bullet within his shoulder, bleeding profusely, limping his way all through the forest, falling at every other step, somehow he did manabe to end up at her doorsteps….
She picked him up, took him to her broken bed, pulled out his bullet,stitched up his wounds.
He had fallen unconscious. All through the night she was awake, looking after this young soldier.
His face, she noticed, no more than twenty five..
It been years since she noticed any man the way she did now..
Morning came with the first rays of sunlight upon the soldier’s rough,brazen face. He saw a woman lying down near the bed. He tried to get up but the pain stung him immensely. He groaned.
She woke up,adjusted her torn white soiled up saree. The soldier looked, a girl, a pretty girl, her eyes, burdened with life, burdened with sadness. She immediately turned her face away. There was something about this girl that made him feel uneasy in his stomach. Maybe her youth, her beauty, which even after years of emotional exfoliatiob,remained intact or the fact that he was never been saved by a girl.
Strangely though this widow or this woman was only a girl in his eyes. A girl whom he already has lost his heart too.
A few days of bedrest and he would be better. These few days were the ones she made food for him, changed his clothes, helped him to the bathroom, fed him….and did all that she once thought she would do to her husband.
Strange is her destiny,she smiled to herself. Her life as a widow was giving her a life as a wife now…
Over the time,she had grown fond of this soldier.Her body shook when the soldier would mistakenly touch her.She could herself blushing-An act she had almost forgotten.
Yes, she also had lost her heart to this handsome soldier
Then one dau,the soldier received a letter.Call of duty.He had to go. She cried silently leaning her head on the doorhinge.. He promised to write her letters…
Days passed away, months too.
She got a few of his letters which she kept safely in her box.
Not a single night passed when he wasnt there in her thoughts. He was missed in each of her tears,remembered in each of her prayers..
One day she went to fetch a pitcher full of water. She stumbled upon nd fell, breaking the pitcher. At once,she wailed,crying out his name and then reduced herself to sobs. A hand came resting on her soldier. The touch-it was familiar. Another hand wrapped around hee bare waist above her saree lifting her up…
It was like a strong gust of wind which turned her. The fingers..they grazed all over her, her closed eyelids..her pretty lips..her smooth stomach.,her navel…her waist..giving her goosebumps. It was His touch..the touch which she longed for. She opened her eyes and found him standing in front of her .
A big tear escaped her eye which he gently kissed away…she had never been happier.
As they say “Athithi Devo Bhava ” in Hindi which means “Gods resides in guest ” , a God indeed had come to her house and gave her a life..