The door clicked open, he was home early. I welcomed him with a bear hug and cooed “What brings you home so early honey?" Smothering with kisses, he said, “How could you forget Mandira? It's my daughter's birthday today and I promised to take my wife and daughter out to dinner! I told you a week back"
His words hit me with a whiplash. I froze and everything else around me seemed to move in slow motion. I could barely fathom Dr.Gopal leaving the house. And I had to shut off. I shut off from the doctor, from the hospital, from the world, and importantly from self. Days blurred into nights; nights were those long dark never ending ones. Dr.Gopal gave up reaching out to me after couple of feeble efforts. He was more than relieved to walk away from my life; as though this was an opportunity he was waiting for. His sheer clinical approach to our relationship did pinch me; but then I had asked for it. Didn't I?
I was sinking into this abyss of self loathing and a contradictory self pity, and there wasn’t a soul in the whole wide world cared. I drank myself silly hoping that my numb senses would somehow dull this searing ache. I huddled along in life in my drunken stupor and doped out haze till one terrible day. The day that bit of news which went viral on all platforms of news, that haunting picture of those two young girls, hanging from opposite branches hit me hard. That picture -The girls and their bright, embroidered dresses and limp arms, dull expressions on the faces of the ridiculously colorful sari clad women and the nonchalant gazing men; it was poignant enough to tear through my haze and shake me to the core. The brazenness of the display, the utter lack of pathos was beyond imagination. The young girls went to relieve themselves and ended up so horrifically dead. Young life was snuffed out just like that. And here I was, self destructing everything I had earned, bearing this cross, carrying this raging angst, this grudge against my parents who no longer lived. I had everything, great education, excellent job, yet I chose to give everything up so easily. I hadn't been emotionally mature; I did not separate wheat from chaff. I couldn't handle the bitter truth of my life. Maybe, I could still redeem myself; I could still do something with the life that lay ahead, using my talents. I needed to just connect the dots. As I started to mull over the wasted opportunities and the scary, lonely road ahead, the thought 'Toilets before temples' kept ringing in my mind.

As soon as I found my strength, and envisioned my goal; I visited that village. The truth was utterly stomach churning, the filth, the squalor, the poverty, the unwritten caste equations and putrid acceptance; everything was so unacceptable and unjust for a society of the twenty first century.

I came back horrified, haunted and a burning urge to do something. As I found raison d'être for my life, it was time to end this mayhem, time to clean up my act and endeavor in something that was purposeful. I became stone sober, found a job, reached out to all my old contacts in U.S and floated an NGO 'Stree’ to address the oppression and injustice women are subjected to. It's been two years now and I haven't touched a drop of liquor. ‘Stree’ has built toilets for women in ten villages in these couple of years. Soon we hope to touch hundred villages. Life is good, in fact, Beautiful!