By Saakshi
A few days ago, during a chat on Facebook, he invited me to Jalandhar for a meeting. It was so long after we met, my journey began, and as I closed my eyes as was my nature, memories of the past began to flash in my mind. The year was exactly 1972 when we used to regularly board a bus from Jalandhar railway station, to alight near our college.
A memory about a lady who used to beg has flashed in my mind. She was downtrodden, on empty stomach most of the day, and helpless. She remained to be silent, but her eyes spoke volumes regarding her grief, loneliness, and hunger. I developed an interest in her as the days passed, as I never missed the sight of her begging every day, near the bus where we regularly used to board. She accepted everything offered to her by the passers-by very coldly without returning a smile, with a deep agony always writ on her face. I began to enquire about her, and it took me a few days to find out who she was and what compelled her to endure the plight she was going through.
She belonged to a family from Calcutta where her sons, with their wife and children, lived happily but never bothered to treat their mother as a mother. It's even though she did all sorts of jobs to make both hands meet, after the death of her husband. She raised up her sons with courage all through the struggle, educated them, and provided them a better life. An occasion didn't spare her from choosing the oldest profession in the world which gave her a bad name, but who will understand it was the love of a mother which was for sale, and somehow the time elapsed.
My respect for her grew deeper and deeper, while others considered her an unlucky lady and ignored her. I began providing her food which I used to bring from home, and even clothing sometimes with the help of my mother. I hid my anger many times when people spoke about her bad luck, indulgence in that deed due to the pressure of life, saying there's nothing wrong with her children who forgot their roots and left her to face the dilemma.
Were the gates of luck closed for her by the Almighty or by Us? At this thought, all of a sudden the train give a jerk, and I woke up. It has been the destination Jalandhar where I was about to meet my friend and recollect the old memories. Memories are not always sweet!
With a heavy heart, I alighted from the train as my friend was waiting for me. We embraced and left towards his house to spend the rest of the day. I continued to be sad for the above pitiable woman who was no more in this world. Memories become alive during dreams, and spread a few moments of unresolvable thoughts during the day!
