I am an Indian women with suhaag

One Summer Vacation, my dad offered me to join him in his aunt’s home. My so-called Grand’s home. But as expected I was reluctant to it. I was behaving like a usual 21st century irritated teen, who was more willing to hangout with friends than to go to their grand parent’s place and listen to those same unseen stories. Genuinely, he was no less irritated with me. After a conversational fight, we agreed to a deal of four chocolates and one long drive on weekend. I went up, dressed pretty and came back with the whole assurance of our deal. My dad went out to get our car ready. I stepped out-of-door, a thought bubbled out of my mind “should I join or stay back?” but then I have to force myself because deal has been already done. we both got into the car and tied our seat-belt. we started with a crowd busted road with horns buzzing incoherent to traffic light and came into a solemnly narrow unstructured lane. I was continuously speaking and my dad could hear my words like w-w-h-a-t i-f-f-a-a i-i-e h-a-ed decid-e-d to s-s-t-a-y a-e-t hoo-m-e? not because I was stammering but because that lane was more made of  soil and less made of black concrete. My dad replied in his soft low tone, she is on regular dialysis, Be polite and humble with her she means me a lot” my curiosity got cold and I talked less after that. We reached her home. Her husband, my dad’s uncle and my grandpa (kind of) opened the door. He welcomed us with as much warmth as he could provide. I couldn’t see his enthusiasm but i could see his hope after coming us. I am not telling this because I was already known with truth of dialysis, I am telling this because anyone could see it. He was not happy but was grateful. He was up to his hospitality. They started talking to each other… asking how we are doing in our life…and so on. He served us biscuits and soft drinks…all I was doing is to keep quite and nod if he asks anything.

With the heights of curiosity I was continuously staring at an old lady (his wife) with Vigo plugged in her wrist, having painful body and shivering voice. She was old as antique. But fortunately she survived till yet. It was hard for her to eat and drink. She was lying on the bed with pillows around so to create a support to her body frame. In everyone’s eyes she was weak. She was incapable. But you know! she wasn’t.

She was beautiful. Her shrinked skin was golden brown like a pure Indian heritage. That innocent eyes that was ready to accept the reality of life. Her shivering lips was still in favour of her family’s welfare. She was at no urge of fabricated life. But the most dazzled surprise was the content that she was carrying all over her body. Sacred vermilion in between those white shaded hairs was as same as it was on the day she got married and honoured as the goddess of the home. I have noticed her weak hands adjusting that red bindi to be on place time to time in the name of wifehood. Although she was unable to get dressed perfectly in her style but she didn’t forget to wear that one Bangle for good fortune and prosperity of her husband. She was trying her best to be the pillar of her family but consequences  was against her. I was astonish to see how delicate it was. She reflected firm and faith, like a divine, a proper statue of the fact that believe is believe,  it is never right or wrong. She was no less worth as inspiration. She was like on the runway showing best roots of Indian believe.PicsArt_1498400823827.jpg A perfect example of commitment, faith and believe. She had a golden chain in her neck signifying proof of belongness to the man of her life. It was hard to accept that even in that critical situation where one thinks of her comfort and survival, she managed her contents through faith with an endless meaning.

I was gazing into her eyes trying to communicate that I can feel her. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she is. Everyone deserves to know the reality of his/her worth of existence. I wanted to tell her every time I saw her lying on the bed trying to convince her body that she will survive. But I was speechless. I was speechless into my own way. 

At last, it was time to leave. My dad reminded me to greet them. And all I said “bless me, I am grateful to see you”. She tried to smile and touched my head by her hand..

I met an Indian women with suhaag and I was speechless.