Somehow my sleep went off I woke up and leaned against the wall. In this half asleep state, I stared everywhere in my room but me and my loneliness only I could find. She again came into my dreams, as a resemblance of my divine past, when I was with her. There sadness began to capture my heart in an extreme need of her and it was irresistible for me. There in a sudden Impatient state I jerked my head to remove her from my thoughts else I know, I will be spoiling my whole day in an agony without studying for my exams. But the jerk dint worked. My cozy heart in her absence as a wound began to feel the silence of my room. Very soon the numbness hiding in my room brake’s its silence, by removing her from my thoughts my puzzled head heard an up roaring babbling sound of so many happenings outside. And I was shore it is from the streets downside.
In the morning time when I entered in this lodge it was a vacant street. So in a curiosity to know this hush Kush atmosphere I went into the balcony leaving my room opened. There I lighted a cigarette and rested my hands over the wide railing of my balcony. Releasing my fumes the flow of wind was towards east and it was already noon I realized from the heat. From there my first sight from the balcony I made. Literally if I would say, I was amazed, that much that if a little bit of feeling left for her in me, in a mean time it was also root upped, on viewing such a breathing crowded street, which was giving a feel of liveliness made me feel fresh and colorful in sight. A real view of crowded street of Bhopal I was able to see from this second floor of my lodge. Each and every think happening on the streets was crystal and clear to my cupid eyes. So many pedestrians were coming and going from where? Somewhere like a current flow of two rivers like mixed against each other who were struggling hard to cross each other. A peep I directly made straight toward downside of my lodge by raising my ankles at tip toe to overcome the height of the railing but nothing was visible at the ground floor in my side. As the aluminum sheets were coming out, which were acting as a shade for the shop and shop owners for their customers. In my whole lane the condition was same.
Fortunately the shop’s in opposite lane with the rabble street was clearly visible. Beside each lodge in both the lane at the ground floor was occupied by these shop owners selling daily household and other personal utility items that were acting as the major attraction for the public towards this street.
A small tea vendor I had seen in front of my lodge with his single iron bench that he was using as a tea stall. He was preparing tea for his customers but no place to sit that was acting as a big trouble for the customer’s arriving. So the people were resting their bumps in certain nooks and corners if found suitable to keep and were having tea in a relaxing state, near to the tea stall. There I had seen a group of young men’s laughing wide don’t know why, may be through some joke shared. There after continuing their conversation they were having there sip of tea and smoke in one side. Near to them two old men’s of bolt head with sleeves on their forehead felt tensed. They were having a serious talk in a manner they were trying to sort out some serious issue. As an acceptance of understanding both of them were nodding their head towards each other like two cuckoo birds sitting aside. Soon there glasses became empty with no sips left they paid and went off.
Thereafter from in between the crowd, I had seen a traditional Indian joint family arriving from the left hand side of the street.
The women’s in that family were showered in colorful Indian traditional attire. The bright full colored printed sarees they wore, red bindi stuck on their foreheads, a golden mangalsutra(A chain wore by Indian ladies if they are married as a sign)hanging in their necks, silver and gold rings and earrings, jingling glass bangles filled in their hands, huge makeup in their silky faces.
Each and everything about these women’s from this floor, my eyes felt like they as a beautiful jewelry is worn by this street. In that family a teenage girl with his small brother in there western outfits were walking recklessly by giving a deep glance over the street side shops. It was clearly visible a big question was lingering in their faces. What to buy? By giving the leadership to their family the men’s in their Europium shirt pant outfits were walking forward by holding hands of their small children, where the gossiping women’s were coming after them. Soon after few steps the families get distributed as they were already planned.
From them two women’s with an old lady might be their mother in law entered in a jewelry shop who’s shiny reflection was twinkling in my eyes from the glass door of that jewelry shop, a couple entered in a bangle shop adjacent to it, that teenage girl with his small brother entered in a cosmetic shop adjacent to the bangle shop and at last husband’s of those three women’s who entered in jeweler shop walked a while a little leaving two three shops with the small children of that family and entered in a photo frame shop. There I had seen the shop keeper of that photo frame shop gives them a warm welcome with a sweet smile embedded in his face, might be thinking that he got a good art loving client. Now these three men’s in which an old man and two young men’s probably his sons began to give a deep glace over the beautiful paintings and sceneries hooked up in the photo frame shop. Where the shop keeper was standing beside them crossing his palms in how may I help you mode. Then suddenly what happent the old men enthusiastically called his two sons to join him to understand a meaning full painting that he got. There all the three men’s began to stare on that painting with their wide eyes opened to understand the flow of that art but I was not able to see from here is because they were standing in front of it. In other hand the shop keeper smile widened joyfully with his teeth shining, thinking that I am just going to sell out one of my painting. Waving his hand the old man called the shop keeper also and said to explain this painting as an order. As soon as he screwed his eyes on the painting and went for the first word to utter there was a call from one of the lady from the street side who came back from the jewelry shop. Not bothering about the shop keeper and his painting in a quick zeal all of them left the spot without collecting any response. A sudden loss of anticipation reflected in his face. There from behind, the shop keeper raised his hands to call them back but released by scribbling some ugly words his lip movement told. The entire family member reunited at the same spot, where they get distributed carrying small covers and packets they bought. Then by giving a walk the women’s seemed sharing the details of the purchase they made. The family went off with a seeking eye for the next purchase to be made. After they went my eyes became impatient, to know what was exactly there in that painting and why dint they bought. I turned and focused my eyes on that painting hooked up between other major paintings of Mona Lisa, The Last Supper, Starry Nights, Pablo Picasso and others. And when I got the view I chuckled delightfully. Finally I understood it was just a time pass for them because it was just a silly painting of a wooden table over which few liquor bottles were kept and they were trying to know the brand name if they are familiar with or not. So after enjoying this preplanned drama leaving this shop owner and his paintings my eyes again concentrated on the streets.
The crowd in the streets was showing its huge presence in other hand the intense of the noon light was losing its strength. So many heads where halting and moving but in between them there was a color in major proportion, I noted. That was black yes black, acting as a black mark moving on the streets. Those were Muslim women’s who were wearing black burkas, a long piece of clothing that covers the face and body, worn by them in public places in order to hide their physical beauty from the eyes of other males leaving husband and families as a ritual. The burka was covering them from tip to toes with a breach opening for their eyes in their niqab a part of burka covering their head. In this black attire from the breach opening of their face their beautiful alluring black almond eyes impressed my vision, I smiled. The fluttering big eyelashes, mascara lined up on their eyelids dashes, their piercing eyes, and their skin ton of pure milky white altogether gave an effect of an elusive, breath taking flower showcased forever. Wisdom of a lady her sleeves and curves her bent and bows not able to present how unfortunate I thought. Collectively if I see somewhere those eyes heavy-lidded eyes she is using as a sword, to give a seductive sparkle to make a man fell in love with them or What else they can do? What they have to show except a big black mark. Nothing! Then I considered if a word beauty is removed from the world of women kind, then what they can be called? A faded flower is about to fall.
There I was beginning to lose my temper in order to feel relaxed, I lighted a cigarette. There from the balcony again fumes took me with the flow of crowd and shown me another lady of same black burka hope. She was holding her small little boy of hardly five, halting, buying and negotiating from shop keepers aside. The lady was lean and thin with bewitching pie-eyes and the applied mascara gave her breathtaking ties. I released my fume smoky dunes, where rest else was totally covered in her burka looms. But somewhere I felt sympathy on her as she might be of 22 or 23 or even less. An age of blossom her beauty might be awesome but she was totally packed like a packet as she only belongs to some ones parcel. Like her so many black spots I had seen roaming here and there on the streets. It felt just like a flower is covered with a big black blanket who will wilt someway in some day but it will wilt soon is because of this blanket.
There in the balcony I imagined myself inside a blanket, feared. For hours days and years with a little opening somewhere in the blanket teared. Definitely I will feel suffocated bobbed and my trembling mind will throw it away to fire in coal never ever to be used for any religious roothold. The freedom I got, I will feel it to celebrate, by a quick warm up, I will try to feel I am free I am free I am free hhhfuu. But if I think about these women’s they are made to wear these costumes for hours in a day and they have to continue this wearing as a ritual throughout their life. How they might be feeling pleasant, jacked might be captured.
The only word I can spell for this kind of brutal custom is illiteracy and inhumanity. What kind of community is this?
Where a woman is covered with a big black gown to hide from whom? From those males who are behaving as a freedom bird, by suppressing those women’s as they belongs to their ancestral property. Is this a faith or madness?
Where the preference for male is like he is born as sovereign whereas value for female is as enervated pain. Then where is the term equality?
Where bloodshed is ritual to get heaven after death and freedom to walk speak see think enjoy is a mark of sin for a way towards hell. No one knows what after death, then why the people are fighting in this living life in the name of life after death, to make hell here onwards?
Where each part of life is restricted by imposing some rules, to follow as a tied up wound is the only way to know the purity in soul. But at last directly or indirectly the whole burden comes under women’s as an axed wood.
Where women is considered as a machine, that gives high productivity with less maintenance cost if gone ill or become use less then get the new one are the only words.
Where instructions flow as hymns as rhymes from birth to death in perfect times. Where men are considered as king of humans and women’s as slaves, in term a never ending tussle for most beautiful kinds. They are trying their best to believe it as a test, that they wish to pass by following those same hymns and rhymes a perfect and inviting way for more puzzles directly in their heavenly well, restricted and protected by the same attacker carrying bloody sword, a hanging bell.
Here everything depends on faith and belief for each day and nights even in sleep. In their rules there is no name and sign of humanity for relief. If it is not there then it should be renovated at least and if it is not possible, then we should throw out these feral rules from our dianain earth for the sake of human belief. People of this community first they should feel human inside them, then anything else for the enhancement of their religious kingdom. There is an exercise for these type people who are bounded with these kinds of belief and following like blinds. They can do it every morning and definitely it will work out, to feel humanity inside them. They can close their eyes where ever they are for some seconds or minutes. Now touch yourself, your hands, your thighs, your chest, stomach, face smoothly lovely and feel the smoothness of your flesh and the strength of your bones. You will feel, we are also a creature of this earth like ant’s animal’s birds and fishes. We are humans a creature from many of this earth but the difference is we have proper functioning brain use it in a correct way, for humanity not like animals harming each other with no sense of reality.
Things are changing day by day according to the trend due to modernization. But here in this community everything is same from last many centuries. The result is women of this community lost her ability to judge what is right and what is wrong. In a way she is confused whether she should wear this black burka or not. The twist is, yes she will wear and if any one comes to objects them. She will give a heart breaking answer “This is our right” on what basis they don’t even know. And it is not their fault because if a look back we make in these women’s life. It is black, a familiar color that they know from their childhood and still they know in the name of religion. But one day they will relies what mistake they are doing and continuing when they will feel a word captured from inside them.
There in the balcony by closing my eyes the last golden puff I hailed it took me inside where her darkness a hide. The sweat inside were rolling shied but the sun light in sky was smiling wide. My blinking eyes had seen the world, a freedom light in limited sight. Women’s in sarees girls in geans how airy they feel I am suffocating plight. Their beauty in crowd, people are appreciating loud. Is there any one to see my eyes, my beautiful eyes I applied mascara isn’t it acknowledgeable sight, passed people never replied but my husband replied every night I am beautiful in sight for his use as a sexual right but no one seen my weeping eyes the pain inside laying wide inside a hide blasting cried.
Yes I remember those days our childhood days, we played hide and seek such a memorable days.
Memories lighted my smiling face when others praised “A wining bay never ready to stay”. Each time I hide a darkest place I took. Where no one can think, such a place I took. But I never imagined this darkness of my hide will overlap my life with a burka tomb, that I got when something broke inside me they called it as “Freedom Bond”. From their onwards my captured body captured soul never uttered a single word against this burka or against this faith in fear of grave I know they are ready to make. But I uttered in a way I can say, in form of fragments we used as attar, hoping it can spell our pain strong and better in the crowd as attar (Perfume).
I released my fumes from the balcony height over the streets over the crowd as her fragment in air it’s me desire, to whom should I pray? To whom should I obey? Who will give me a freedom day? These English streets of jeans and tees, I like to wear I swear but my covered body covered face never able to face any races. Today money is education but not made for us, because a place where crowded with siblings. We as a female always need to adjust, thinking that let them touch the tip of Himalaya we will wait, one day it will melt. They said home is home your dear home a responsible mom should not roam and from there onwards to go outside to have the sunrise is like, dream come home. Decoration and ornamentation is only known to our eyes as rest of the part is hidden toys, only known to play till sunrise. At first those were enjoying nights but very soon it felt a nail is hammered wild. We are two our two constitution says but our religion says we are two our ten and twenty years gone waste, as a loading truck we have to work until it stucks. We live in darkness from morning till night but that is not sufficient for men called giant, he imposes rules for each and every step we move.
My child hold my finger tight, crowd is there you will miss my sight and you will never be able to find me, because as like me many are there in this burka sight, a fight of women’s in dark light. My child you are a boy, a freedom kite as well his need for futures fight. You as a “He” is always right. But this religious fight we will continue “she” as a dark light and we will be there inside this burka as captured world always in sight.
Dropping the fitter I opened my eyes. The mother and child went somewhere leaving a word captured world.
Hari Das