Second Chance

Story about a widow and her lover

It was the crack of dawn, Shaarda sat quietly by the fire, sipping tea. It was black with a pinch of salt and pepper; this is how they had tea in this part of the world. Her coarse hands from years of working in the fields looked manly. ‘She is so pretty!’ they use to say, now as she blew on the fire wood of the cook stove, you could see the fine wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. She gazed towards the dark grey hills across the door, her large black eyes lost somewhere. She sipped the tea slowly, taking a deep breath with each sip. She looked at the watch, the last gift given to her by Rajen. It was exactly

4 am; time for her to collect fodder for the cows. But she was not going today. She had made up her mind.

She went to her room instead. She rummaged through old clothes and nick-knacks in her almirah, she wasn’t able to find what she was looking for. She put her hand deep inside every shelf, she looked under the bed, inside the dusty suitcase but it was nowhere. Her bow shaped lips pursed tightly and her small shoulders seemed to slope further as she put her hands on her head in slight despair.

“oh!’’ she exclaimed and looked towards an old trunk, covered with faded blue sheet.  She quickly removed the sheet, opened the trunk and there it was. Right on top. She felt a sense of joy like you would when you meet a long time friend. The wooden box looked new , her hands trembled a little as she lifted its lid. Inside, a little silver vermilion box sat neatly on the right. There was ‘potay’(a red beaded necklace tied on wedding ceremonies) at the centre and a white cloth tied in a knot was placed carefully on the left. ‘The tighter you tie the knot, the stronger your bond will be’ the priest had said. Shaarda could still hear Rajen’s mischievous laughter when they had pulled on each end of the knot. She smiled to herself as she tightened the knot again, this time alone. She picked a photograph from the corner. It was old, faded on the sides but enough to make memories come rushing through. She looked so happy in the photograph. Her smiling face beside a grinning Rajen stared back at her. She was in a red saaree, make up a little too heavy, hair tied in a bun with loose curls hanging on the sides. He was wearing a grey suit,’You look like a hero in this suit’ she had teased him. His tan face looked even more brown with the lighting, her’s was white with too much powder. She caressed the picture with her calloused hand. A drop of tear trickled down her cheek, she gave a nervous laugh as if embarrassed to bare her emotion. As if she were crying in front of someone else. She wiped it before it could reach her lips.

She was startled by the crowing of the rooster. She quickly got her little black bag out and threw in whatever clothes she could find. She took out the gold bangle, chain, earring and ring given to her at the wedding and wrapped it carefully in a small handkerchief. She placed the handkerchief in between her clothes and hurriedly changed into a pink kurta .She had only few hours left. Once others woke up, she would not get a chance to move. This was the only chance for her second chance at life. She tip toed as she walked out of the house. She moved quickly, out towards the paddy field, giving one last long look to what she was leaving behind. It wasn’t much but she still felt a sharp pain through her heart. She had begun to love this life even when she hated it.  Her footsteps got quicker as she slowly faded in the horizon.

Sharda had met Suresh in the fall. He had promised to marry her and take her to the city. She was tired of living a life of a widow. She wanted someone to share her life with, after all she was only twenty five. It had been 2 and ½ years since Rajen had died in service. It was a Sunday evening when news of his death had changed her whole life. They brought his body the following day. He looked like he was sleeping if not for the bullet hole on the right side of his neck. She had not cried a single tear. People talked. She looked like a soul less body, just moving, breathing. Then one evening, she saw a couple walking by, arguing casually about something silly. She had cried her eyes out, she had cried till there were no more tears to be cried. All her dreams had been crushed and she was now nothing but a daughter-‘in-law’.  She looked after the house, took care of her mother-in-law and father-in-law.  Rajen was the only son, they had no one else to depend on. She longed to be loved and to laugh again. She did love and she did laugh but that was only pretence. Inside, she had become hollow. When Suresh came into her life, she felt a ray of hope warm her. She felt that she deserved a second chance to start over. After a long time her happiness was unadulterated. She was supposed to meet him at the railway station that morning. She had only two hours. She hurriedly boarded the bus, she would reach the station in an hour.

Suresh looked at his watch, there was still a lot of time. He had nothing to pack, just his secrets. He sat on the floor of the one room set, that he had rented for  the past few months. The room looked almost empty. There was a single bed at one corner of the room. A small stove and some utensils that was unused for some time sat at the other corner. He thought about his plan again. He would go to the city, leave Shaarda to Padma and return the same night. He was slightly nervous, he didn’t understand why, he had done this before. Maybe his conscience was still alive that made him feel this way. He wore a maroon checked shirt and a black trouser. At 5 ft 8” he looked a little too thin. His receding hairline gave away his age. He was fair and one would surely call him attractive. But those deceitful grey eyes showed his true colour. He covered up well with an innocent smile and a quiet demeanour. The truth however was dark just like his thinning hair. He didn’t mean to hurt, he just wanted to survive. It had started two years ago. He worked in a grocery store in the city. The ten thousand rupees that he earned was not enough to feed his family of six. Living in the city was expensive. After rent and monthly expenditure, he had very little to send his family. His ageing parents, wife and three children had only one person to look up to. Him. His children were growing up and he didn’t have enough to feed them, let alone give them a good life.

One particularly difficult month, he met Padma. She was introduced to him by a friend.

She had casually asked him ‘so, I heard you are having a hard time?’ ‘You can make good money with me, are you up for it?’ He knew what she was talking about. But how could he?

He knew a girl. He knew her very well. She was just 17 and she was ready to do anything for him. 

After a while He looked Padma right in the eye and asked ‘how much?’

In these past two years he had sold three girls. It was the same every time. He would go to a remote village, hunt his prey and sacrifice it to the devils. ‘This is the last’ he would think, until the next catch.

Only ten minutes were left. Shaarda sat on one of the old wooden chairs in the platform. She was constantly twisting the end of her pink duppatta. She craned her neck every so often. At last! She saw him walking towards her, almost running. She breathed deeply in relief.

‘What took you so long?’ she questioned.

‘I’ll tell you later’ He said as he carried her bags

They boarded the train right on time. Just as they settled on their seats, the whistle blew. She felt a wave of panic ebb and flow. The train started to move.

‘This is the last’ He thought.

Author's Note

constructive feedback is welcome :)

Reviews

[Arvad Lazar]

Nice plot. Also, I think spelling numbers is better than using digits :)

[preeti]

Thanks. I do feel the same way about numbers but I see I have missed some places :)