Social Short Story – WHOM TO BLAME
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What she did is right or wrong cannot be judged, can be guessed only. The answer would be either right or wrong, nothing can be beyond that. Her mother and elder sister were of the opinion that it was not her fault, it was her father’s fault who slapped her in front of her boyfriend. Her father also abused him for no fault of him.
Her father should, before slapping her, have thought thrice that she was adult and quite aware of her future career too. She was capable of distinguishing between right and wrong, even then her father without knowing the truth of the case or affair, jumped upon her, caught hold of her by hand and dragged animal alike to the first floor through the stairs, not only that he used nasty words but also threatened her boyfriend to face the dire consequences if he dared any longer to see her daughter anywhere in future.
As her father held her boyfriend’s hand and raised his hand to slap him also, she caught up her father’s hand and asked him not to do so as he was not at fault.
Her father rented long back the ground floor of his house to his father who was an assistant teacher in a High English School.
They were born in the same month of October when people of the locality had been celebrating Navaratri enthusiastically. Sudhanshu, the boyfriend and Shruti were born and brought up in the same building and grew up walking and playing together.
They were acquainted with the green grass that grew in the lawn, they were acquainted with the plants that bore beautiful flowers and also those trees that were laden with green and ripe fruits whole seasons.
When Sudhanshu was at the top of the branches to plug fruits, shruti used to stand under the tree spreading her dupatta to hold them under it the moment they were dropped one after another from up the branches of the trees.
They rejoiced the moment for they sat together on the bench and ate ripe guavas and mangoes. Sometimes she quarrelled to take the ripe one but it happened once only in as much as he took care of her choice and spared her the better ones.
Their love was ripen with the pace of time as with those of the guavas and mangoes. None opposed that time when they met and shared together their pleasant moment of childhood every now and then. They were admitted to the same class in the same school and when they started attending their classes regularly by the same school bus, their love grew up young and they began loving each other immensely and could become restless if they did not see, did not talk and moreover did not peep into each other’s eyes.
It was not he only who was solely responsible for love and romance particularly when their parents were away from the house on duty but she was also equally responsible in provoking him for love and romance. Such incidents that suddenly happened were beyond their control while staring at the faces consistently as if they were thirsty and wanted to quench their thirst by way of embracing each other and … what not?
Time and tide waits for no man.
Shruti’s father was a good friend of mine and I very often saw him on Sunday while going to Hirapur Hatia for buying green and garden fresh vegetables. Long back we joined the company together and in course of time we were promoted to the managerial post. He was the head of a unit also. Whenever I saw him at his house, I found him worried about some family problem.
He was very gentle and well behaved person. We were fond of betel.
He came with me to betel shop to see me off after taking betel together.
Once he came to my office and said that he was not feeling well physically and mentally both. Sometimes he felt heaviness in his chest. I took him to Dr. Singh who examined him and advised for angiography. I suggested him to proceed to CMCH Vellore for Advance Health Check-up. He said he would apply to refer his case and soon he would leave for Vellore.
I asked my friend to tell the truth why he was worried.
He explained with sheer sadness- My eldest daughter fell in love with her boyfriend, Sudhanshu, my tenant’s son who belongs to a lower caste whereas we to a Brahmin family. I have two younger daughters, I am afraid they can go to any extent.
What extent? Clarify it clearly.
They can flee away to some unknown place any day and can marry, then I’ll be of nowhere. My society is very rough and tough , it cannot excuse me, even the near and dear ones will cut off relation. I have two younger daughters also, I’ll be in a great social problem, and none will come forward to marry them and you see even a king cannot keep his young daughters in his palace, what think of mine?
Mr. Pandey? These days these things are common. Don’t take it so seriously, Sit with Shruti and apprise her what you say to me, even then she is adamant to marry her boyfriend, assure her you will have no objection but after the boy is well employed and settled somewhere to stand on his feet and she will finish her study at least up to graduation level. Don’t take it so seriously, be calm and cool, and leave everything to the wishes of God.
Mr. Prasad? I am under extreme depression, do not know what will happen, only God Knows, none else, but one thing is certain, if anything happens beyond the limit, I can’t control myself.
As the water flows above his head, I kept mum on this personal issue and departed with him.
The next day was Monday. I was sitting alone in my chamber as I reached earlier to prepare the reply to the audit query. Nandu, my peon entered my chamber hastily trying to stop his breathing and said:
Sir ! In our Mohalla a tragedy had happened last night.
Tell me in nutshell.
Your friend’s daughter committed suicide by hanging in her bed room.
How this happened?
Sir! I cannot say exactly why Shruti committed suicide. She was a very nice girl but… ?
But what?
But she was in love with her boyfriend for a long time. Yesterday evening her father seeing them together, became furious, slapped her daughter, abused and threatened the boy. He dragged her daughter to upstairs, closed her in her room. I think Shruti was also under depression and so ended her life by hanging.
I stopped working and rushed to my friend’s house.
–END–
Writer: Durga Prasad.
Advocate, Sociologist, Author, and Journalist.
