Reminiscences... Riya was in the habit of not reading her work once it was penned. It was hard for her to read all the words again and feeling the pain which resides in the dark alley with some hidden aspects. The manuscript of her third novel was all done but before printing and professional editing, she had to go through the chapters once for omitting the minor mistakes. The book was about the modern day dazzling women. Her inner conscience was saying that maybe it was a devalued tale. She was not exactly enamoured with the words and feelings portrayed by her. “Hello.” She said after the call was connected. “Hey Riya. How are you?” Sohail replied. Sohail was her friend cum personal editor. He was with Riya since the time she participated in small contests, reading and crying at the dirges that her story contained and laughing at all the mistakes. “I am not sure with this story.” She said in a feeble voice. “Shut up and finish your work I am dying to read the shitty things you wrote.” He struggled with dauntless optimism over the cheering up session for Riya. “I don’t write shitty things.” “Then why are you not sure.” “I have just made up a story and not seen it.” Riya explained the cause of her worry. “You have a story in your house. I don’t know why you don’t want to write that.” “How many times we will discuss the same topic?” She said in a sudden state of trance. The anguished tone was disturbing for Sohail but he didn’t complain. He knew that Riya was stressed as the deadlines were approaching. It took some minutes for them to settle and finally Riya broke the silence. “I feel bad when I think about it.” “You should be feeling proud over that ok.” He said in a harsh tone. She disconnected the call without replying. Maybe he was not wrong when advising the same. Maybe things were not that enigmatic for her now than they were in her childhood. Maybe, she was underestimating the hardships of this story, the story of her mother.

***

Mansi Das, Riya’s mother was in her late twenties when she was seeing her would be grooms. Her family was not rich enough to settle the marriage with some upper middle class man. “Do you like him?” Mansi’s mother asked when the guest went after the formal meeting. “First tell me what will you do about this?” She said and stretched her Sari up to her knee. “What are you doing? Lower you sari, ill- mannered girl.” Mansi was a patient of leukoderma, in general terms, white spots. The first spot was seen on her body when she was seven. It was treated but this time the spot was enlarged. “We have arranged your operation. Don’t worry.” A smile was carved on her mother’s face. The disease was not communicable but in those years when taboos were on peak, white spots were not considered harmonious. They were fatal and rugged. Mansi’s childhood was full of anxieties about her being different from her siblings. Only she was having the genetic deformity, now she was hoping for it to be her last spot...

***

The marriage was not a grand one but serenity was maintained in the ceremonies which Mansi’s parents arranged for their daughter. She was married to a clerk and her fate was destined to be around her man and his desires. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Shakti, Mansi’s husband held a stern look. Mansi was silent. She had no answers to his queries. She was hoping for something and it didn’t fell in her proximity, the spots were back and this time they were very intense and bright. The night where the revelation is clear, the spot emerged out and displayed the reality in the most embarrassing way. “Say.” Shakti shrieked and slapped her hard. Mansi’s emotions and the childhood villain, her spots, crept in her life and hovered over the biggest happiness of her life. She couldn’t even express that she was expecting their first child. In the next few days her parents came over Shakti’s place and the casement was opened to hear the pleadings and proceedings. “This is not a serious disease.” Mansi’s mother said with teary lids. “We know everything. I don’t want to work for a diseased woman and the coming diseased child.” Shakti said holding flames of anger in his eyes. “He is right. You please take your daughter with you.” Shakti’s mother supported her son’s speech. Mansi’s parents rose and stood close to her. They understood the seriousness quite perfectly. “Thank You.” Mansi said ironically and in an hour or so she packed her clothes and they left for their city. When Mansi returned to her home she was outraged. She was an alien in her own house because everyone was seeing her as a guest with a short arrival. “What happened there?” Mansi’s brother asked. “Nothing. They want me to stay here.” “Forever.” She added. “Ask your wife to clean the last room for her.” Mansi’s mother ordered her brother. He left in silence. The look on his face was deliberately saying the mind set which he conceived. But Mansi was stiff and nothing harmed her soul after she left her husband’s place, enough damage was already presented to her in that house. “Look Mansi. I have the proprietorship over everything we have, but till when....” “What do you mean mom?” Mansi was perplexed. “I am getting old and soon the ownership would be transferred in the hands of your brother and their wives.” “Yes that’s true.” Mansi said with lowered head. “I have brought you along because I know that this place is mine but if you again go and come then I am not sure if I can treat you in the similar way.” Mansi was listening to her mother carefully, without any delight in her heart. “I want you to think over it again.” “I have thought a lot. I don’t want to go again.” “I have committed a mistake of not telling your in-laws about your disease and if you marry again, same problems will come.” “Hmm.” “Don’t marry again. Can you do this?” Mansi’s mother asked in an emphatic way. “Yes. I don’t want to get married as well.” Mansi’s mother filled her arms with the embrace of her daughter and thus her fate was written to be alone till eternity...

***

The case was in court. Mansi was four months pregnant but still travelled for the hearing. It was the most difficult journey for her but she didn’t drop a tear because the past memories gifted her enough firmness to be harsh in front of her parents. “The divorce will be done in just one day.” The lawyer informed who was appointed by Mansi’s dad. “We hope so. She can’t travel much.” He said while looking at her daughter. “Don’t worry. I will keep that point in front of the court too.” Mansi was thinking that her troubles will decrease with the end of the bond but the last step before coming down from the meaningless knotted relation, was going to debase the sacramental tie. “I don’t want to keep any relation with the child. I won’t give her any allowance.” Shakti said loudly in the courtroom. “I don’t want anything.” Mansi replied without losing her charm of confidence. The divorce was finalized, the signatures were taken and the last look which Mansi and Shakti exchanged contained nothing more than an usual strangeness and a promise of a sequestered life, till they rest their souls in peace...

***

Some months later... Mansi was in deep sorrow and was mourning after looking at the child who was born some hours ago. “Why?” Mansi wailed loud on seeing the baby girl, lying close to her bed. “Who will be my support now?” She added and wiped her tears. Mansi’s mother and her elder sister were in the hospital, inspecting the tragedy which God poured in her life. They were all comforting Mansi, though they were baffled as well. The want of a boy was so much in their nerves that it didn’t allow anyone to comfort the new born child. But not more than some hours Mansi took to finally embrace the girl. The smile, the chubby body and the never leaving glitter in her eyes made Mansi fall for the kid. The voluptuous face and hands were giving immense warmth to the cold heart of Mansi...

***

Riya was four years old and the admissions were on peak. The phase is quite uneasy but memorable one for parents. It was quite sensitive matter for Mansi because till now she didn’t need extra money for her expenses but now money was the foremost criteria before stepping in any organization for Riya’s admission. “Let's go once. Let her sit in the interview.” Mansi’s mother said and they entered the closest school of the locality. Mansi was holding Riya’s hand with a tight grip. She was trying to lose her nervousness in that form. “Hello.” The lady said with a gleeful smile. “Admission?” Mansi didn’t dare to speak in front of the lady with such high prominence and authority.  “Yes. And this little daughter is our student?” She said in a friendly manner. Mansi and her mother were sent outside and the questionnaire began in their absence. After some minutes Mansi was called inside. “She is very calm and polite. She know the basics. She can definitely get the admission.” Mansi was under a lot of pressure for sending her child to the same school where the other children of the family were admitted. She was on seventh sky on hearing those words from the principal. “You can pay the fees next month.” The principal added. “How much?” “Rupees 15,000 for a year. You can pay it in two installments.” She replied with toothy smile. Mansi was addled by her words. She never saw such big amount together after her marriage because she owned nothing after she came back. She was getting nervous after every passing second and the nervousness started tripping from her eyes. The emotions were delivered so vehemently that she didn’t realize that at what place she was. Riya was watching her without blinking her eyes. She was not sure that what just happened. “Go outside.” The lady politely ordered Riya. Riya turned towards her helpless mother. Mansi nodded and Riya got the required answer. She left in silence to be with her grandmother, waiting outside. “What happened?” “Nothing. Just the thought of her not being admitted got stuck to my nerves.” “Is there any problem?” She asked sympathetically. “I am a single mother and I don’t have any savings.” “I can allow her to study free on human grounds.” The principal said after thinking for some while. “No thank you, I don’t need any charity for her.” Mansi said strongly and in a very polite way refused to sell her pride. Mansi didn’t cry for melting the heart of principal in order to create a soft corner in it, she cried because she was not able to digest the news that her daughter isn’t going to get the same place which others would be enjoying. “What happened in the interview?” A close relative asked when the three generations reached home. Mansi didn’t narrate the scene to her mother. She didn’t want to make her feel sorry for not being able to help her daughter out. Mansi knew that all the power rested in the hands of her father and there was nothing which her mother could presently do. “She failed.” Mansi said, faking some anger towards Riya. “So sad. Send her to some private tuition like my daughter. She cleared the interview without any problems.” The lady said proudly. The following year Mansi made her daughter learn all the things at home which she would have learned in the school. When others were practicing things for three hours, Riya was practicing them for full day because Mansi integrated every lesson in the form of a game. The interest level rose and within four months Riya learned everything given in the books...

***

The school was about to be changed. The near ones admitted their children to one of the best convent school of city. Mansi was again in dilemma. From where to start seeking some help was her major concern. Her want was not getting attained and her thoughts were waving atrociously like a disturbed pendulum. “Why don’t you send her to the government school?” Mansi’s brother prompted her after having dinner. Everyone in the house was aware of the never ending desire inside Mansi’s heart. “Why don’t you send your son to the government school?” Mansi rebuked her brother hard. “Don’t raise your voice.” He counter attacked. “I don’t know why you are even saying this. My daughter needs to have the best schooling.” “But you don’t have money.” “I have my jewellery.” Mansi said after thinking for some minutes. “What?” Her mother replied instantly. “What I will do with these bangles and chain when my daughter can’t get what she deserves.” She said with a heavy voice and a light heart. She didn’t delay in removing all the ornaments that were beautifying her outlook. “Sell them and finance my money.” She had moisture in her eyes when she reached near her brother. “No.” He said plainly and gave all the things back which Mansi handed over to him. “Yes. I beg of you.” Mansi said and sat on the floor. Her cries got fainter and tears louder. Mansi’s brother collected the gold articles and went. It felt someone took away the entire burden from Mansi’s loathed body and it transformed in a very blissful structure, where her soul could reside peacefully. She smiled like never before because she recognized the zealous air that her brother created when he left...

***

“So to whom you want to give the credit for the success your new novel?” The interviewer asked Riya. Riya smiled at her question. “My mother.” She said without any wait. “Do you want to tell that on what side your novel stands, as the rumours are waiting to know?” Simran asked, keeping the empty cup of coffee aside. “Well I was trying to avoid the question since so many days.” Riya stopped, imagining the most suitable words to frame a soothingly woven answer. “Yes Simran, it is our story. The main lead is my mother.” She added while emphasizing on the last word. “Oh my God, am I really hearing it?” Simran got little relented. “I actually didn’t want my work to be judged over sympathy.” “My mother never believed in sympathy and that’s what I have learnt from her.” Riya added. “So is she happy?” “She is on the top of world. But she never shows the same. She is a silent spectator but I know one thing, she keeps my books with her all the time and that says it all.” “That’s the loveliest thing I heard this evening.” Simran said while noting something in the notepad. “What is her reaction on reading her own story?” “She can’t believe that I wrote a complete book on her life. She didn’t read it by the way.” “Why?” “She didn’t want to read the past. She just heard the summary from me.” Riya explained. Simran gave an understanding nod to Riya’s answer. “Your novel ends on a very dramatic end. It just portrays your mother, what about you?” Simran asked next. “Me... Ok...” Riya became thoughtful for some while. “For knowing about me we need a sequel.” Some laughter flew in air. “Well on a serious note, I went to a convent. I am a doctorate in English and now sitting with you.” “Do you think convent is really so necessary?” “Actually no, it isn’t. In my case it was just an outcome of pressure, a want, a desire, to be precise.” “Who can imagine that a child who had to go through so much can reach here?” Simran complimented. “Thank you but actual toughness was in the path of my mother. I was just inspecting the changes.” “She struggled every year to save for my studies. When the money got financed, we never looked back because money reproduced money but yes not all days were same. I have seen my mother crying for minimal amount of credit but I don’t remember any such incident about me. She never let me face all that.” Riya touched her heart. “So your mother really gave her jewellery?” “Yes.” Riya sighed. “I am sorry.” “Oh don’t be. We made a lot more after that.” They giggled proudly. “I have also heard that you were not writing the story of your mother.” “Yes, true. But when the reminiscences started fuming up, I couldn’t resist myself from dumping that tale.” “I am glad that it happened.” Riya’s face shined merrily. “Your story has very little part of your mother’s marriage. Why?” “That’s what happened. It was a brief tour for my mom.” Riya answered. “You mentioned that you never saw your father. I mean, really?” “Yes. Not even a photograph.” “How you came to know this story?” “Well, I never asked my mother about him. I thought we were normal.” “Things started coming out automatically and with years moving, my questions swayed too.” Riya ended her part. “I am really touched with all this.” Simran swiped the tears touching her nose. “Last thing.” She added. “Yes.” “Autograph.” She said and took out Riya’s novel. Riya took her book and opened the first page for signing. She touched the name, shimmering bright, MEMOIRS OF THE PAST and smiled for owning the text penned inside the book, which touched thousands of heart...