Biji

LESSONS OF LIFE

Let me tell you a story today. And like the film waalas I’m not going to disclaim any similarities to any character living or dead. It is in fact, a true story about a true person in a true situation. Truth as they say is bitter, don’t hope for a happy ending therefore.

Once upon a time, some years ago, during an era; choose the beginning that suits you best. So I was telling you that during my childhood we lived in a rented house owned by a wealthy landlord of our small city. On the terrace was a room inhabited by an old lady addressed as Biji. She was over sixty and lived all alone, cooked by herself and cribbed all day. She would enquire what the time was some seventy two times a day to the irritation of the neighbours and mohallewaalas. A boy, whom I thought, was her son came to meet her once in three days. Upon asking, my mother told me that he was her husband’s son from a second wife. Biji used to be a beautiful high class society wife in her times. But, she could not bear any children despite medical aids and innumerous test. In desire of an heir, she convinced her husband to get remarried. The man loved her dearly and would not budge at the idea of getting a second wife. She had persuaded him by fasting, weeping, vowing, arguing et al. The new lady bore four children to Lalaji. The eldest one was very attached to Biji and he was the one who visited her now. But why was she left to lead this life of a solitary person when her full family existed? Had she committed a crime? What was so wrong with her that she had to be left this way?

The only wrong, the only crime was her being infertile. The woman who bore children came to acquire the supreme status gradually and the enmity that exists between any two competing women persisted. The property, the husband, the children- all were coveted possession to be claimed by the victorious one. Biji lost the battle and was thrown out of the house. Being her legal husband, the man put her in this room on one of his properties. The thing that disturbed me the most after having learnt her story was that her husband had never come to see her. Was this the plight of the lady whom he had loved so much, married and adored?

Biji was very beautiful even at this age and after so much. Her youth beyond the wrinkles would surely have made many crazy. But, today, she was going crazy, battling her solitude and pangs of seclusion. She asked what the time was not because she had appointments to keep but to know how much of it had passed, how much remained; to see a human face pop out of a house to answer her. Being illiterate Biji had no other way to connect with the living world other than by talking. However, with limited life and exposure, what topics could she chat about? The time … of course. After a while she stopped cooking listing her age as an excuse. But I think, this was her way of making someone from her family to come to her thrice a day to deliver her meals. She had taken seriously ill and after much deliberation was taken to her house, her own house, where she breathed her last within a few hours.

What had Biji done to deserve such a life and such an end? The story of this woman whom I saw every day for five consecutive years makes me wonder what use are the scientific temper, the modern thought if they can not alter the plight of the women of our age?