The evening sun had already set westwards, and the tumult on the road lessened. “Iranbur,” the bus conductor screamed out. Kavita opened her bleary eyes. As she rushed to get down, the child in her lap began to cry. Putting her puckered breast in the child’s mouth, Kavita peeped around to make sure of her destination.
In the dark exhaust of the bus, she stood there alone with her child, fanning the air with her sari. Her uncertain eyes glanced around as the bus moved ahead. When the whirring of the bus faded away, the whole locality turned into a gloomy graveyard. A strange feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her, and she began to bite her sari-end faster than she ever did.
Kavita stood motionless. The unwanted memories of yester months invaded her mind. She contemplated the scraggy face of her child and grabbed it to her bosom tightly, as if to compensate for her distress. She quickened her weary steps along the interior path, between secluded, posh bungalows, until she found herself at a huge, iron gate. By the light of the nearest lamp post, Kavita could barely read the board that was nailed to the right gate pillar, “No.111, Mr. Ka-r-thi-k, s-o-n of MP, Mr. Sh-e-k-ar.”
As she read the first name on the board, Kavita became thoughtful, and fragments of the unwanted memory drifted through her mind again. Troubled and excited, she leaned on to the gate pillar and rang the bell twice.
A buxom maid with a chequered apron rushed to the gate. “ She must be the new servant after me”, reflected Kavita. Her tousled hair added a new weariness to her old age. The maid flashed her curious eyes at the woman behind the gate at that unusual time, with a child in her arms. As she unlocked the gate, she had ample opportunity to glimpse at the face of the innocent and exhausted Kavita, though she stood against the light. Feeling pity for the child, the maid took Kavita in immediately, and let her wait for the owner.
The servant woman’s sympathy awakened in Kavita a painful thought. “Is she of my clan? Is she a Dalit?” she wondered.
Kavita walked up to the parlour carefully, as if she had stepped into an unknown place. She sat down on the lowest step at its entrance, as a fatigued cow lies on the ground. As the darkness thickened, the cry of the crickets intensified and the gloom enveloped her again. The moths around the ceiling light, kept company with Kavita, as if they had understood her plight.
Kavita desperately searched for a familiar sight. But there was none. Everything had changed. Except one - the picture of a wild wolf devouring an innocent lamb. That was still on the wall. When Kavita saw it, she was startled and strove hard to control the anger that surged in her. But, the instant cry of the child brought her back to the present.
It was half past eight. Kavita heard the traumatizing stroke of the parlour clock in the distance. A strange horror overcame her, as she saw a vehicle, its lights glaring. Breaking the sombreness of the night, a jeep speeded up to her and came to a grinding halt. Her heart raced. Trembling with fear, she got to her feet unawares. She saw the person with glittering shoes getting down from the driving seat. It was Mr. Karthik, son of an MP. A young woman in a short skirt with painted lips got down from the other side. She darted across the parlour. Her high heels clicked and the ornaments jingled as she swung her hips. Even though she took no notice of Kavita, the latter knew that the woman was not the wife of Mr. Karthik.
No sooner did the gentleman in white kurta see Kavita, than he burst out with his usual vocabulary, “Wild bitch, why have you come here?” Kavita’s whole body stiffened. She pressed the infant against her dried breast firmly, as if to prevent it from listening to those invectives.
Even though she was innocent, she had no courage to face that fiendish nature. Ten months ago, Kavita had hardened her heart to save a life from abortion. Today, she was sentenced to utter helplessness. Her feeble voice began to tremble. “Sir, I came to get your signature on this child’s birth certificate,” she cried.
The defence tactics worked very well in the political ring. But, that was a strange and weighty one for him to tackle at that hour. He became restless and furious. “Signature? Get it from him who slept with you. There are no fathers here for harlot’s children. Get out of my sight, you dirty………”
Kavita was dumb-founded at those irresponsible words. She opened her mouth to cry, “Sir, it is you!” But she was late. Two cowardly hands had already caught her throat.
Hearing the strangled cry of Kavita, the servant woman came running to the parlour, and was baffled by the sight. When the man saw the maid, he freed Kavita, and she fell to her knees like a withered flower. She hugged her child against her face and sobbed. The man frowned at the maid and spat on the ground. Thundering across the parlour, he banged the door shut on Kavita.
Moved with compassion, the servant woman dragged Kavita into her cottage, and Kavita poured out her past before her.
Trapped by the mockery of fate, Kavita was the eldest of four children in a family, in which there was neither father nor husband. Her father had deserted them when they were small. She never went to school. When she was eight, she began her loathsome career as a servant. Today she was fourteen. Ten months ago, her penniless mother got her employed in that No.111. As Kavita remembered that detestable night when she was locked behind the doors, her eyes sank in bitter tears. That unfortunate night, the poor lamb was hunted, and the greedy wolf had satisfied himself. From then on, she became nobody to everyone. Her own mother deserted her, cursed her and chased her away. But as her womb became heavier and heavier, she became somebody to someone. A mother to a child and a protector of life! She realized that she was wanted again.
When Kavita was half way through her story, she paused for a while and thought, “Wanted? By whom?” A deafening silence prevailed in the cottage. Suddenly, she rose up with determination. She screamed at the closed door of Mr. Karthik, “Sir, you’ve already signed the certificate. This child carries your blood. He is no more a Dalit. He is a Brahmin. He has a glorious future”. Kavita burst into triumphant tears as she hugged the child tightly. The servant woman was bewildered at her sight. Mr. Karthik opened the door, shocked and defeated.
Kavita hurried down the steps. Having parcelled her only meal for Kavita’s journey, the maid gave it to her and kept looking at Kavita’s frail silhouette, until she disappeared into the darkness of the night.
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