Copyright © Priya Somaiya 2022 All Rights Reserved. ISBN 979-8-88555-911-9 This book has been published with all efforts taken to make the material error-free after the consent of the author. However, the author and the publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause. While every effort has been made to avoid any mistake or omission, this publication is being sold on the condition and understanding that neither the author nor the publishers or printers would be liable in any manner to any person by reason of any mistake or omission in this publication or for any action taken or omitted to be taken or advice rendered or accepted on the basis of this work. For any defect in printing or binding the publishers will be liable only to replace the defective copy by another copy of this work then available.

Contents 1. Where Women Dread To Tread

1

2. The Invisible Childhood Years

13

3. Years Of Restrictions And Responsibilities

32

4. Taking Life Head-on

59

5. Doting Mother, Not A Loving Wife

76

6. Collecting Life’s Broken Pieces

87

7. Revolting To Leave Home

93

8. Life Takes A Somersault

105

9. Tormented Journeys Lead To Lasting Wisdom

115

10. Under The Banyan Tree

126

11. Living On Her Own Terms

134

12. Flocks Of Waders Fly In

140

13. Her Clever And Devious Moves

152

14. Money Makes The World Go Round

166

15. Dark Spaces Harbour Many Secrets

177

16. Yet Another Tiger Death!!!

186

17. It Was Bound To Happen

193

18. A Rudderless Wrecked Ship

204

19. Habits Die Hard

212

20. Indrani, Ravishing At 53

219

21. Roli And Anjali Visit Their Mother

228

22. The Disillusionment And Despair

235

23. Did Khokan Understand Her Well?

246

24. Simmering Flames Flicker Through The Cracks 258

iii

CHAPTER ONE

Where Women Dread to Tread It rained heavily for a week. The estuarine creeks on the Matla river swelled up with the rising tides and receded silently leaving behind heaps of slush, silt, and slime. The marshy delta of the Sundarbans was not a friendly place to live in, and yet men and women and young and old toiled and struggled and stayed on. It was their home, and they didn’t know anything better but to make it their own, generation after generation. The Sundarbans, the world’s largest mangrove delta was a wondrous, sprawling group of islands visited frequently by those interested in ecological research. Tourists also thronged the delta in the winter months to see its unique flora and fauna and revel in the mysteries of the mangrove forests. However, for Kalyani, her life there was unimaginably difficult. Women had a rough ride in the interior villages of the Sundarbans, generally unsafe and bereft of love and care for the girl child. They were considered a burden and were unwanted the minute they made their uncelebrated entry into the world. They grew up feeling small and inferior and 1

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were aware of the money and the land that belonged to and would be literally showered at the feet of their male siblings. They were told that the family would support their brothers in their hour of need as well as throughout their lives. The family planned to give this or that to the daughter-in-law who would enter the family on some future date. Daughters, however, were subjugated and made to work for anything and everything that they believed was their own. In fact, nothing was theirs. They understood the value of accepting the reality on the ground. Invariably their mothers didn’t have the time to pass on the lessons of life to them. If by luck the grandmother was still alive and mentally alert, it was she who would tutor the daughters and prepare them to face the difficulties and challenges that would beset them in the future. Granny would din it into their heads that the future would be as trying as the present, if not worse. Their lives were about trials and tribulations. These were the times of the 1960s to the 90s. Tradition, social norms, and orthodox rules and regulations were all discriminatory for girls and women in the rural interiors in the Sundarbans. There was rampant dowry and domestic violence and many women succumbed to injuries and died an early death. Families kept on trying for male progeny and reeled under the burden of unwanted girls who were perceived as a curse of God Almighty. The girls were normally not educated, and some who attended school dropped out soon to help in the household chores and on the farms. Sundarbans encouraged women and girls to work on the farms. Women would discharge all household responsibilities and work hard on the farms as daily labour. Most women in the Sundarbans were wage earners. Paddy cultivation entailed very hard work. Their legs and waists 2

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submerged in mud and water, they slogged away with the strong sun burning down on their heads. Their backs bent for hours and hours transferring the rice saplings, replanting them, or just plucking the weeds, aching and paining in stress and fatigue. Men on the fields would bully them and if their husbands were in the fields with them, they had to serve lunch and tea to them and were not tolerated laughing and speaking with other men. The lives of most women were very restricted. They were not better than bonded labour, enslaved to heartless men and to equally torturous families. They hardly spoke more than a hundred words with their fathers. Parents hardly knew them as individuals. Their own unique identity was virtually non-existent. They were just a number, the badi, majhli, or choti, or at the most a name. At their in-laws’ they were a bahu or a daughter-in-law, and behind the covered head and the half-veiled faces, their physical, social, and personal identities disappeared completely. The grandmother or the grandaunt were significant people in the lives of most daughters in village homes. Wise grandmothers in the family at times showed empathy and protected the daughters from their fathers, brothers, and other relatives. Sometimes a strong grandmother was seen taking tough decisions in favour of the daughters and putting her foot down to save them from unfairness and hardship. The best food went to their brothers, and in very poor families the leftovers were served to daughters, mothers, and other female members after the men had eaten the meals. Daughters were continuously prepared for their future roles of daughters-in-law. Most mothers had been through the same ordeal. Therefore, habits died hard, and with the constant reminders and reinforcement from the elders and 3

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male members, change of behaviour was a far cry. Nothing was theirs. Daughters became acutely aware of this. Therefore, women in the villages developed a staunch sense of reality and an uncanny ability to accept and manage separation and emptiness. Daughters in rural families grew up hearing that in no time they would be sent away to other homes. Most girls in the villages married before they were 15. Who am I? Where do I belong? Answers to such questions were usually not found. Daughters took refuge behind socially defined roles. They learnt to suppress their thoughts and emotions, and reined in their creativity and imagination. Their lives were robotic, replete with repetitive, monotonous activity and physical toil. Thank God, physical labour made them sleep well from sheer exhaustion. It was one long and unending chain of back-breaking work in the rice fields which belonged largely to the wellto-do zamindars. Sundarbans was full of corrupt, feudal gentry. The zamindar, the officials, and the politicians all thrived scratching each other’s backs. Nothing moved without bribes and commissions. The poor remained poor for countless generations. They were trapped in the vicious circle of illiteracy and physical labour under the thumb of the coterie and the nexus of the corrupt. Kalyani received a pittance for the arduous effort that she invested for 10 hours every day, even during the heavy monsoons. Sajnekhali, on the delta of the Matla and Zilli rivers, was her village. Illiterate, with three daughters and a son to feed, Kalyani knew that there was no respite for her till her daughters were married and her son, Ajay, was old and strong enough to support her financially. There was no guarantee of this either. Boys, after they married, began neglecting their mothers and danced around the fingers of 4

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their scheming in-laws and exploitative daughters. If they married a girl who brought in substantial dowry, then this was bound to happen. She would become the boss in the house and ill-treat her mother-in-law. Kalyani was adept with the fishing net and managed to catch enough fish every alternate day for her children and her ageing old aunt Moushami who had been living with her. Kalyani had built her house on the land gifted to her by Moushami. Her aunt’s presence in the house was reassuring as she kept a vigil on her daughters Roli, Anjali, and Aarti. Bringing up daughters in the village was an emotional burden and the main cause for Kalyani’s tension and anxiety. Her two elder daughters were tall like their father and his sisters. They were fair with good features, beautiful black hair, and toned up and erect figures. The eldest daughter had a sensuous body and attracted the attention of many men in and around the village. Kalyani had been really worried seeing Roli, the eldest daughter, with a few Muslim boys from the nearby Muslim locality a few days ago. When asked Roli retorted, “Ma, why are you after our lives? They are good boys. So what if they are Muslims? One boy Faiz is in my class and is a very good student. His father works in Saudi and has helped the family build a big and beautiful house. Not like us. We still live in this mud house. I feel embarrassed bringing my friends home.” Her grandaunt heard her speak rudely to Kalyani. Picking up a stick she stealthily walked up and holding Roli by the hair slapped her across the face and beat her up. Granny was strong at 65 years. Cursing her she said, “You wretch, you have not learnt any manners. You are almost 16… look more than 20! Oh, how does it matter? Nonetheless, you are making my dear niece slog day and night, and you have the guts to speak to her so badly… 5

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you’ll only learn your lesson when you are one day… in broad daylight and in front of the whole village, gang-raped by Faiz and his cronies.” Shouting at the top of her voice she called out to Kalyani, “Daughter, don’t give this wretch food today… let her go to that rich family with money from Saudi. Once she goes there, I am very sure the Hindu pada will not accept her back and she won’t be able to stay with us for the rest of her life.” The neighbours heard granny shout and joined her. Mithu di from the adjacent hut brought a few pieces of fried fish for granny and said, “How has this girl forgotten the incident that happened about a month ago? Granny you must have heard from Kalyani about the rape of the two-year-old girl of Mahesh and Parvati by a boy from the adjacent pada.” Granny looked aghast and asked, “What story… I only returned from pilgrimage last week, and I don’t know any such story. Kalyani has not told me any story of this rape that you talk about… my God, Mithu, what happened? I am frightened… go on, please tell me.” “Well granny, this happened about two weeks ago. Mahesh and a few people from the adjacent pada had gone fishing and crab fishing on the river towards the jungle. As you know, in the last five years we’ve lost 17 people from Sajnekhali and Gosaba… all picked up, killed, and eaten by the tigers. This group was merrily busy catching fish and crabs when one of them spotted a tiger. They ran for their lives. Mahesh, that foolish, idiotic man had also taken his little daughter. In panic he ran to save his life… imagine, granny, leaving his little one behind, not bothered about the life of his child… leaving her helpless, he ran back home. She was picked by Jatin… a boy of 17 years belonging to a carpenter’s family from the other pada. You know what 6

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this boy did to the little one… he took her far along the river shore in the opposite direction and raped and raped her till her body was torn open… oh my God granny, I can’t forget the sight…” Mithu was choked with tears, her body shaking, she called out to Ma Kali to save all young girls in Sajnekhali, and calming herself down continued, “Granny, I saw the gaping wound, the body part torn open and blood gushing on the sand when we found the little one lying unconscious on the shore in the evening. The sand all around her was bright red in colour… That day the sky was red with tears as the sun went down. We have seen streams of blood flowing from the bodies of half-eaten men and women and dumped by the tigers along the river. Oh granny, but these boys and men, shame on them, they are human tigers who devour their own village people…” Wiping her tears, her face full of rage and anguish Mithu continued, “The men took her to the hospital… the little one had 28 stitches on her lower body part, granny… she was in the hospital for 10 days … that wretched Mahesh didn’t have money for treatment… we all contributed and saved her life… now tell me, granny… tell me truthfully, who will marry her… granny this could happen to our own daughters…” Mithu broke down and wailed and called out to Goddess Bibon Bi to save all the daughters of the village from human tigers… she cursed the men and boys. Granny emphatically, intentionally and loudly cursed the boys and men of the village and called out to the Goddesses Kali, Durga, and Bibon Bi ruling the land and the mangrove forests of Sajnekhali to punish all such men and boys with death and disease. “Let them bleed to death… I know Mithu that this will happen soon because for the last few days I’ve noticed the setting sun spread red colour in the sky… it is an omen for their death… their bleeding to death… look up, 7

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just look Mithu, that part of the sky has become blood red.” Granny and Mithu tightly held each other till the sun went down across the river Matla and it became dark and unpredictable as their own destinies. Kalyani consoled her aunt and asked her to move inside the hut as it had become chilly. It was the beginning of December and the nights were getting dark and cold. She had managed to catch fish and collected spinach and brinjal from the neighbour’s farm. Her aunt loved her fish and even a small piece swimming in the thin gravy with a few slices of potato was a delight for her. Granny cuddled up in the cover of gunny bags and began eating. Looking at Kalyani, her young, widowed niece, with large wistful eyes she said, “Come here, come Kalyani, sit next to me. You are my brave girl. I admire your courage and resilience. I know it’s not easy to do what you are doing. You’ve taken the responsibility of your children on your slim shoulders, my girl. It is certainly not an easy task. Till I am alive you don’t have to worry about your daughters and the running of the house. I am too old and weak to work in the fields now. But surely, I’ll contribute a little money to you by making baskets and chati… you’ve seen the beautiful designs that I weave. It’s all from my imagination and of course my mother also taught me. Your grandmother was a talented woman. Oh, forget about your grandmother… let’s discuss you first… yes, I was saying that you needn’t worry till I am alive… you know women in our family live very long. God knows why these men chicken out so soon and we have to take charge, and therefore He makes us strong… your decision of not marrying again is painful for you and equally for me… but I suppose sensible. A widow’s life in the Sundarbans is very tough. Imagine wearing white clothes, not dressing up so that you can 8

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look more pretty and wearing good jewellery, which is the dream of every woman. You have put up with all this in the last six years. Why don’t your daughters understand this? I know why. They are young and in the prime of their youth. I looked very pretty when I was their age. Women at this age think about romance and sex all the time like men. They are no different. They must be controlled and their activities closely tracked. I’ve known so many of them getting pregnant and their parents running for their lives, hiding it, and contacting the witch doctor in the village to do the needful. Some women also have knowledge of herbs and local medicines given to abort such illegitimate pregnancies. God protect us!! You must be very strict with your daughters, Kalyani. I don’t like the arrogance of Roli. She’ll have a very bad influence on the other two if she doesn’t mend her ways.” She stopped talking and looked at Kalyani and waited for her to say something. Kalyani avoided looking at her. Her aunt said, “Come on, say something… I’ve noticed that most of the time you are lost in your thoughts.” “Oh aunty, I have so much to do… I keep thinking and planning in my mind for the day and the week… I worry about my work on the farm and keep praying that the zamindar would continue giving work to me. At least I bring in money and grain and vegetables for the children. You know aunty, two hours from here is the Sajnekhali forest reserve where they employ daily wage labour and give them better daily rates than what I get on the farms here. I was thinking of exploring the opportunity. It would mean four hours of travel daily by boat to the tiger reserve. What do you think, aunty?” said Kalyani. Her aunt looked perturbed and said, “Don’t be greedy, Kalyani. God is giving you work and your house is running. 9

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I think you have enough. I know you are worried about the marriages of your daughters and saving money for them. You need the money required for the education of Ajay. My girl, you must maintain your mental equanimity and things will work out with time. Travelling alone in the boat with all kinds of men is not safe. You are not even 36 years old yet and look so attractive. Do you think these men will leave you alone once they see your firm arms, hips, and breasts and your black and thick tresses? There is a lot of animal attraction in our hair. Going to the farms is full of risk itself. Please don’t invite more trouble. Let me lie down. I feel quite exhausted after listening to the horrific story of that little girl. God save us. Bring all the children in. It’s pitch dark outside.” Kalyani knew that there was a lot of sense and wisdom in what her aunt said. It was best to keep indoors and close to home. Women had to tread carefully. There was continuous trepidation in her heart for her daughters. The forest and the riverbank were not safe places. The fear of the tiger in the forest, and the crocodiles and sharks in the river motivated people to be cautious. However, the greatest fear for women was being brutally raped. It had happened many times to them in the delta in the past and kept happening unabatedly in the village and the district. She didn’t understand why her own daughters were becoming rebellious. She had done everything for them. What was wrong with their upbringing.? Should she seek advice from Khokan? She remembered that night, not too far away, when he had held her hand in the dark under the palm tree in his backyard. She froze with shame and shock. What was that gesture and touch all about? How she wished she had seen his face. She would have understood his behaviour correctly. She deliberately kept away from 10

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him after that evening. She remembered the day when her husband passed away six years ago. She couldn’t rid her mind of the sad memory. After minutes of her husband’s passing away, the elderly aunts and sisters-in-law came to her while she sat near his body in a stupor. They dragged her and made her sit on a slab of stone outside the hut in pitch darkness. She did as they told her and didn’t protest at all. A bucket of cold water was poured down her head. She was asked to remove the green and red sari that she wore. The red sindoor was wiped off from her hair parting and her forehead. Her earrings and the gold chain with the mangal sutra were removed. Her sister-in-law said, “You know didi, you are right. We should have checked the dosha in her horoscope. I am sure she was unlucky for her husband. Such women carry the dosha like the venom of the cobra in their destiny. God only knows… she must have done terrible karmas in her past life. That’s the reason why her husband died so young. My God, just look at her family. They all are reeling under such a big shock. This wretched Kalyani is 30 years old and is already saddled with four children. What will the elders in the family do? How will they feed her and her brood? Don’t you move, you wretch! We must break your bangles now. It’s better didi, that she is sent to her father’s place. Let them take her responsibility. At least our family would be rid of the burden and the stress.” Kalyani’s red bangles were broken. Then she was asked to wear a white sari and a white blouse and her sister-inlaw said, “Don’t you dare wear coloured clothes from today. Many things are forbidden for you such as non-vegetarian food, which includes fish and eggs. Growing your hair and wearing perfume or kajal. No adornments of any sorts, do 11

BLEEDING SUNSETS OF THE SUNDARBANS The Sunderbans… Beautiful forests as the name says… The largest mangrove forests of the world, home to several endangered species of fauna, a tourist’s dream destination, stunning landscapes that ignite a painter’s passion… But, what of the humans who inhabit this picture-perfect land of tiny islands, estuarine streams, marshy swamps, and lush green fields? Beneath the breathtakingly beautiful sky of myriad colours and the flaming red, bleeding sunsets, they lead a life of extreme hardship, every day a challenge, with the fear of attacks by the man-eating tigers, the crocodiles that abound the streams, and the constant threat of storms and cyclones that can turn their fertile fields into saline swamps in a few minutes, wiping out a lifetime’s labour. And the women… second-class humans like everywhere, but more so in this rural, remote corner, treated like beasts of burden, hard toil taking a toll of their lives, subjected to domestic violence, sexual assaults from human predators with rape and murder being common events, at the mercy of the rich and powerful… This is the saga of the courage of one such woman—Kalyani, orphaned before reaching her teens, married before fourteen, mother of four, widowed in the early thirties, extremely poor, but uncompromising in her dignity, who does not succumb to pressures or favours and brings up her children single-handedly, relying only on her own hard labour. This story, set in the village of Sajnekhali, on the banks of the Matla River, could be the story of so many who live under the bleeding skies with bleeding hearts.

Priya Somaiya is a Kashmiri Pandit born and brought up in Allahabad, Uttar Pradesh. With a Ph.D in Psychology from Allahabad University, she has four decades of work experience as an HR practitioner and is a leading HR consultant and OD specialist of India. Dr. Somaiya has also contributed extensively to the Social Sector. Presently she is running her own HR consulting company and counselling practice. Her fascination for the Sunderbans arises out of the several visits she has made there for work. Being a highly sensitive and perceptive HR specialist, she has developed a deep empathy for the people of this beautiful, but extremely challenging area. Writing is her passion through which she spreads awareness of the little-understood areas of our country. This is Dr. Somaiya’s 6th book (or Novel). She has also written extensively on HR subjects throughout her career and is still pursuing writing and publishing.