Strength to Say No (4 page)

‘We have to call a doctor,' says one of the villagers.

‘At this hour of the night?' replies another.

‘What for?' say some others.

‘These midwives have come from their village for us. Even though they're from a different community they are childbirth professionals. It's said that they can perform miracles, including when the mother is young or suffering intensely during the contractions,' says a grandmother who has given birth to eight children.

But that night there won't be a miracle. Baba leaves the house with his arms hanging limp by his sides. Everyone looks at the ground, and the embarrassed crowd disperses listlessly. I creep towards the house, and through the half-opened door I
can make out my sister Josna surrounded by several women. She is motionless, perhaps already dead. The midwives hold the baby with its head down and pat it harder and harder. There's no reaction from the baby. My mother is slumped sobbing on my sister's chest. I don't know if I ought to enter or go back into the courtyard with the other children. I decide to go back out. This is the second time that my sister has tried unsuccessfully to give birth. Perhaps this time she will even lose her life.

My sister and I are very close in spite of there being nearly ten years between us. We are two partners who like to take care of each other. She looks after me when our parents are away, cooks my meals and takes me to the pond so that I can bathe. Josna is more than a big sister – she is a friend I can confide in, and we share all our secrets without fear.

My parents introduced her to her first husband when she was twelve years old. He was a fellow who came from a neighbouring village, and his parents were farmers. He was neither attractive nor repulsive. He had an ordinary physique with fine down on his upper lip and hardly more hair on top of his head. His big, callused hands convinced my parents that he would be a good husband. His good qualities as a worker, someone capable of founding a family and of feeding it – that was the deciding factor in the eyes of my mother. The meeting took place at our house. His parents came to ask for the hand of Josna, who they had, of course, never seen before. To make a good impression my parents bought a quarter-chicken, a kilo of better quality rice than usual and some rotis spread with oil.
Ma cooked a dish in a sauce. The discussion lasted several hours, and when the moment came to speak in concrete terms about the wedding the two lovebirds were invited to get acquainted.

My sister was embarrassed – and he was, too. They sat on the pavement opposite in plain sight of the two sets of parents. Josna was half turned away, and her veil covered almost all of her head. They spoke, or rather whispered, for several minutes under the amused gaze of the village children.

Later the meal was served, and the men took their places around the table that my father had borrowed from his brother. The women served them the midday meal. The mother of the proposed groom praises the qualities of her son. ‘He is a hard worker, young, intelligent. He could have gone to school and become someone important, but somebody had to help cultivate the fields. After all, that's why you have children, isn't it?'

Ma laid out Josna's strong points: her beauty, her youth, her culinary talents and her ability to take care of children. Josna had already been raising her younger brothers and sisters for several years now.

By the time we have
chai
the union is sealed and the dowry fixed at ten thousand rupees. The ceremony will be paid for by the father of the groom. Baba is delighted because he was thinking that he would have to stump up fifteen or twenty thousand rupees and pay half the wedding costs. But it is true that his son-in-law has not been to school nor even been to a town, and so it would be foolish to pay more, especially as he has neither a vehicle, nor personal inheritance, nor rich parents, nor great agricultural lands that could generate comfortable revenues.

The wedding will take place in a month. Everything has been organized during the course of one meal. In around thirty days my older sister will be the responsibility of her future husband and one mouth fewer to feed for Baba. Josna is sad to have to leave the house and to go to live with a man she didn't even know existed this morning and with who she is going to spend the rest of her life.

On the day of the wedding my sister is radiant. Her sari is dotted with sparkling sequins and her hands are decorated with intricate designs in henna. She is swathed in a large piece of white fabric. As for every wedding the whole village is involved. The musicians are Baba's friends, the old carts for the procession belong to the neighbours and the cooking pots that are used to prepare the food for the guests belong to Ma's parents. The rest of the village makes up the wedding procession.

The Hindu priest, facing the couple, celebrates their union and recites their duties for the rest of their lives. The crown of flowers presented to my sister by her husband marks the beginning of singing and dancing that will last for several hours. For reasons of economy the wedding lasts for one day only. Josna's father-in-law can't afford to offer more than that.

During the whole ceremony I saw my sister's fear at the idea of leaving her family. She seemed lost in the middle of all the congratulations, and all those eyes looking at her disturbed her more than they made her happy. We knew each other so well that I didn't have to talk to her to know what she was thinking. She realized that she would never again be a child and that she had just abruptly entered adulthood once and for all – although she was still only an adolescent. I promised to visit her as soon as it was possible. She undertook to come back to see us every
month. Her in-laws did not have any objection to that on the condition that Josna didn't stay more than two days and one night.

I couldn't have imagined that after one month of marriage my sister would come back to live with us.

‘What's going on?' my father asked when he saw her return, loaded down like a mule.

‘He left!'

Ma ran to meet my sister, shook her like a mango tree and asked for explanations. ‘What did you do? Why did he leave? And where did he go, anyway?'

‘I don't know, Ma. He disappeared two weeks ago. His parents haven't had any news either. They think that he went to join his brother in Calcutta.'

‘But you don't just leave your family and your wife on a whim,' my father put in.

‘Of course not. She's lying. She must have done something that annoyed him,' Ma shouts.

‘I didn't do anything wrong, Ma! I obeyed and did everything they told me to do. I cooked and did the housework without ever turning a hair or protesting … and now I'm ruined. Nobody else will ever want me.'

Josna is in tears. The marriage was consummated, she is impure. No other man will want to marry her. Personally I am very happy that she is among us again, but I quickly understand that she will never have a family.

My furious mother, shocked at my sister's return, takes Baba's arm and says, ‘Let's go and see the family.'

Ma orders me to go and find her scarf. When I give it to her she strides down the main village street in the direction of the house of Josna's in-laws.

My sister refuses to speak to me. She is curled up on her straw mattress inside the house to escape from the shame. The first neighbours stroll past our house to try to find out more about what's going on. I don't say a word to them.

When the parents return my mother is even more furious than before. My father has a gloomy expression. Not only is their daughter no longer a virgin but the dowry money was wasted even as Baba has gone into debt to pay it.

My mother went to see the
panchayat
, the assembly whose role it is to sort out differences between individuals and villages. She explained the situation to them, but there was nothing to be done. The son disappeared with the money and his parents had no news. They were sincerely sorry about the situation and they knew that their reputation was now sealed and that no one would trust them ever again. Their other sons won't find wives unless they search several dozen kilometres from their village. The local police suggested putting the missing husband and deserter on the list of wanted persons, while explaining that there was almost no chance of finding him if he had taken refuge in a big city like Calcutta. If he had left the state of West Bengal there was no chance of tracing him.

After that Josna cried every day. During a long period of depression she refused to eat. She grew visibly thinner. Every day my mother cursed all the men on earth. She stopped eating, too. Anger and bitterness gnawed away at her.

Everything changes when Badhari's father comes to knock on our door and asks to speak to Baba.

‘
Namaste
, Karno. I am coming to see you because I hope to find a wife for my son Badhari. Do you know him?'

‘No.'

‘But you met him at the weekly market. A big, strapping fellow, very fine. He is the biggest of my sons.'

‘I don't see very well, but never mind. What makes you say that he could be suitable for my daughter?'

‘He was the one who spoke to me about it. He asked for my permission to marry her. I don't have any objection. Even if she has already been married …'

‘Yes, it's an unhappy experience that the gods put in our path.'

‘How much is her dowry?'

‘Not very much, I'm afraid. I can offer only ten thousand rupees. But my daughter is still young. She is only twelve and a half years old. What's more, she is beautiful and a good worker. She is employed in a brick factory. She would be a very good catch for anyone who wants to marry her.'

‘Then ten thousand rupees it is! It's a deal! He's my last son and I would like to see him start a family before I depart this life.'

It is nothing short of a miracle that has just happened. Ma announces to Josna that she has finally found a husband – a godsend so soon after the first misadventure. My sister, however, remains cautious and is afraid of another unpleasant experience.

A few months after the marriage Josna has some vomiting and dizziness. She is no longer able to go to work at the brick factory. The work is too hard, the fumes too toxic, and she has
a constant backache. It's only after a few months that she realizes she is pregnant for the first time.

The childbirth is very painful. The contractions last for several hours. My sister screams for a good part of the day as her mother-in-law looks on, trying to calm her so that she will give birth to her child as quickly as possible. I am worried. I wonder if all women have to suffer the same fate when they give birth. Everyone seems relieved when the first cries of the baby fill the room. The baby is very thin, like his mother. And Josna has no milk. She has to mix a little water and sugar and feed the baby with a teaspoon, although it is too small to open its mouth. It is also too young to have a name. As a precaution and as a superstition parents do not give a definite name to a child until it is a few months old.

The child died a few weeks after its birth.