Peacocks no longer dance in Sarojnagar

Beneath the scorching sun, a girl headed  towards  home with a smile on her face.  Meethi, the eldest daughter of Munshilal,  Pradhan of Sarojnagar was smiling even in this parching weather.

She had a reason to smile that tens of scorching suns can hardly destroy.  After all she had topped in the entire K S Mishra Memorial Girls College. Her father would proudly spend hours under that banyan tree telling about her achievement, mother would prepare her  favourite  sooji- halwa, uncle would lend her some new clothes. It was really difficult to stop this gentle smile on Meethi’s face.

Rajtilak, the grocer’s  son in the village too smiled in his shop.  He was the only son of Sukhiram, the short -heighted grocer of Sarojnagar.  Rajtilak would hardly get time from his shop. He longed for two things all day-rich merchants and a glimpse of the eldest daughter of Pradhan. He could never know things like public administration, sociology, home science and all. Neither he could know the reason behind her smile. Yet a smile was seen on his face for he always wished to see her happy. Villagers say he was very restless the night Meethi  suffered a snakebite.

Unaware, she kept heading for her home. One could easily notice a desire to reach home as early as possible in her. She even encountered a group of vandals in the next street. Like any other day, they threw a few humiliating cheap words at her. But today none of those words could hurt her.

She was dancing like a peacock in the monsoon of her dreams , with feathers purple and green. A faith was restored in her. An ambition had  encrypt in her. She had to go miles. She had to conquer this world. She could see herself  very close to that ambassador car with a blinking red light on it. Yes she always aspired to be Rakhi di, the collector in the next village.

The world’s biggest happiness is reaching home, be it that lost sparrow or the girl herself. For a girl, the dream of her life is to make her parents proud. She would shed tears the moment her parents regret of raising a girl child. She would lose each and everything  just  to see a smile on their faces. She would make friends. She  would fall in love if not once, twice.  She may cry for new clothes too. She can bear the tantrums of those  vandals in the street but not her parents being humiliated. For a girl, father is always her first love that she never want to lose.

And finally Meethi reached home. With marksheet  in her hands and a big smile on her face, she rushed towards the verandah where her pradhan father would sit with others villagers and have hukkaah. Before she could tell anything, she noticed some really good flowers kept on the table in verandah. Father had wore a neat white kurta with his hairs painted black. He was looking good today. Mother too was clad in a silk saree that she wore in special occasions. “Perhaps all are going to celebrate my success” she thought for a while.

But she got the reason behind these painted doors and silk saree the moment  she  heard father negotiating with Basuki Kaka of her village. He was negotiating of money, the money to be given to Basuki  Kaka’s  family as dowry. Yes Meethi was getting married. She was twenty- two now. Basuki Kaka’ s  son Manohar owned a garment shop in the town. He would keep her happy as he had  got enormous wealth. He would take her to the town after marriage and they would live happily.

An invitation was sent to all villagers. They were happy as they were expecting a good feast. The tent provider promised to arrange the best decoration ever. Why not? Meethi was no less. She was the most beautiful girl in Sarojnagar.

It was the evening before marriage. The village was really looking astonishing. There  were fancy lights all around. Fragrance of sweet dishes could be felt from a considerable distance. Basuki bought an expensive safari for his son.  All were happy.

Nobody cared about Meethi, the bright girl of K S Mishra Memorial Girls College. Though she got expensive silk sarees. She put her marksheet and certificates in an old suitcase which she used to store money in her childhood days. She had no desire to carry that suitcase to her new home in the town. She chose to leave each and everything here that could hurt her. Monsoon would very soon leave. Green feathers would be shed. Meethi would be married. She cried, urged, shouted but nobody came. It was a noisy environment all around. Pradhan’s daughter was getting married. All were happy.

It’s been years Meethi has not visited  Sarojnagar.  She no longer aspires to be Rakhi Di. That white ambassador does not fascinate her anymore. She is even expecting a baby  this monsoon.

Rajtilak no longer waits for a glimpse of pradhan’s daughter. He focuses on rich merchants all day. He is doing well in his business.

Monsoon has never been so pleasing since then. Peacocks have never danced in it like then.

We have somehow found a letter that Meethi wrote the evening before marriage. Here it is-

Let me dance in this monsoon

Let me be a peacock once again  

I do not want to shed my feathers now

Let me remain in my dreams once again

Do not wake me up, I beg

Let me rise, Let me fall

I do not want to stop now

I  gave up everything for you

Never looked at that grocer’s son

You will never find me as burden

I ask for nothing, but a few more years

That ambassador car doesn’t let me sleep

Come in to my dreams

Let me get in to that

I know I am a girl

Let me forget that

Let me dance in this monsoon

Let me be a peacock once again.