Situation: Its got a made up backstory, and tries to explain why she is what she is.😕
No one should settle for second place in the special someone's heart. You can fight for everything else..but not for someone's love. Its insulting to have to snatch a place which does not belong to you.
Its demeaning to be a thief.
People rob only when something carnal drives them. Like starvation, poverty..or maybe revenge.
My place in my household has always been that of a dog being allowed to rest before the fire on Christmas. Other days, its back to the kennel. I get meaty bones, only when the Masters have scraps leftover. A mongrel, in the kennel, while the Chihuahua rests in the bosom of the mistress. Warm and well fed.
I am the watch dog though. I actually work. But breed is significant. That I know.
Huh. Toil not, spin not. Sure.
But oil...and you spin. The oil does not necessarily have to be earned by the one spinning merrily away.
I resented it. Resented that when the mongrel had pups, they were still thrown raggedy pieces of whatever rubbish they could spare. But when the Chihuahua did...those pups had a warm bed, and the richest gravy to feast upon.
Then they say, that I am a bitch. Of course I am. Belong to the street...and street smart. Proud of it. Will be one till I die. I am sly. Of course. It helps to get what i want. Or else I will have to go without it.
Sanskaar was my world. My husband, is weak. He can never stand in front of a bulldozer, that is his elder brother. He is around 10 years younger to his brother after all. So the property was largely left in the able, grabbing hands of the first born. The younger one was way too young to be considered.
Ram married me. I am not well educated. I belong from a simple village and an era, where nobody bothered to do much with a girl child except arrange for a dowry to get rid of her. I'm very certain, that my parents never wanted to have me. An accident. An afterthought. Eternally overlooked. Ram fell in love with me, when he came to visit some Uncle of his , in my village. That Uncle was a landlord. Big palace. Dazzling decor. Big money. Salaams at his feet.
Well, fell in love would be a very big misstatement.
I did odd jobs at that palace. It helped out at home. Ram was bored. In his teens and he used to be very handsome. Rather like Sanskaar is now. He thought me pretty. Thought me available.
I was...in love. A real prince for the waif. So I did not deny him anything.
I got pregnant with Sanskaar. The greatest gift I have ever had in my life. My child. And the pregnancy ensured me a place in this family. Ram's father...did not want to soil the family name, by refusing my parents a match for their daughter, when they pressured Ram to marry me.That put His great Lineage in danger of being shamed.
So, big wedding...huge ambience...and of course...Sujata Ramprasad Maheshwari. How grand that sounds. Darn hollow though, once you look closely.
Nobody liked me. Looked at me like something the cat dragged in. Thats the actual truth though.
My husband, berated for his folly in having scored me, from the wrong side of the tracks...was all but disowned. His head never went up again. It always drooped.
My decorous, Polished, Suave, debonair...all such adjectives come to life, when you set eyes upon my Bhabhi. Annapurna. Graceful, talented and of course...the wife of the head...Mrs. DurgaPrasad maheshwari. Born high...married higher. Nose in the air. The Lady of the house.
I fought . Fought for some semblance of respect. Some semblance of honour. Fought to make my husband gear up...and earn his place. He gradually fell in love with me. Only because, he admired my tooth and nail strife. He cannot do it himself. But thats the only thing that won his heart. His heart I own. Nobody but me.
I fought for my son. My son, who was born, while I was still a new bride. Born some months before the pampered prince of the house, Lakshya. Lakshya had all the toys he ever wanted. he still liked playing with Sanskaar's. After they had been broken, he would move on to his new ones.
Yet, Sanskaar, by his own capacity, rose above the midgets. He was born brilliant. Born the best. He took the reins of the maheshwari Industries...he led.
Sanskaar had always tended to undermine me. Of course, he adores me, because he knows, I can die for him. But I am not the polished mother he would like to have. His Aunt, is the epitome of grace...and talent. She has a soft corner for him. So the compass pointed due north.
I knew the dangers of that. Noblemen may pity beggars...but they can never make them family. The inevitable happened. As soon as Sanskaar started to advance farther than their own mediocre flesh and blood..small cuts began being inflicted upon him. They cut his right leg. Then his left. Then his hands...
He wanted to marry a girl outside our society. Nada.
He wanted to lead the business after his Uncle. Nada.
My son, fled after his love was torn from him. I know who killed her. But there is no proof of course. Neat mowing. Clean. Efficient.
I lost my will to live after he left. I was dead for five years.
Now he is back. He is no longer the same sanskaar. He has made his own success. I am proud.
Whatever he does, i will protect him.
I know, that he is in love. I like this girl. Swara. I sensed the warning signs long before he confessed his love. I am his mother after all. Umbilical cords may be cut. Kids may grow up. But who gave the first milk, knows exactly what the child wants.
I do not hate her for being Bengali. I hate her, because she used my son. I hate her, because she met her own ends through him...and did not consider him for a second. I want her to leave, because her greatness makes her blind to him. My Son deserves more.
I may not be made of gold...but an iron shield does the job. I hope swara reciprocates his love. Or else, we will see, who uses who.
CID
