Family

On that cold night of Magh, I was sitting on a four-legged plank of wood for the purpose of resting at the Loha Path Gamini Vishramalaya after traveling by train coming from Mumbai to Gorakhpur, that I found a thirty year old girl next to me shivering with chill. She was seen sitting, half of her face covered with a veil, her hands trembling with fear, gold family bracelets, thick silver anklets on her feet and a Banarasi sari on her body, perhaps a woman from a family thakur or pandit’s house. was being There was a fourteen-year-old daughter with her, who was looking at the passengers as she passed by, resting her head on the girl’s shoulder, a few steps away from her stood a strong-armed young man in a dhoti-kurta, who was probably the woman’s husband.

“Where are you going”?
You are going to “Panadevari”, where are you going? After answering my question, the young man asked me a question.

I too am going to Pandevri,” I replied with a slight flush of smile.

After that the young man started walking on the platform and I started seeing the light of the platform shining in the night.
A clear shade of light was visible on the floor made of colored stones, in a row there were stalls of food items and literary books and in each stall there were a couple of customers standing, some customers were busy in conversation and some needed their needs. In negotiating goods accordingly.
On that cold winter night, a thin sheet of fog spread across the sky, which with continuous gusts of wind was fountaining on our warm clothed bodies.

After ten minutes I also went outside with all three of them.
There was an influx of rickshaws and other riders outside, all four of us left for Pandevri by boarding a rickshaw. Even though we were four, there was silence in that rickshaw, yet the loud sound of the passengers was making noise in that silent atmosphere. The surprising thing was that the woman, who seemed to be a woman of a family family, was still silent. I would have answered every question by simply nodding my head. After three hours, the rickshaw stopped in front of an ashram at Pandevri. All four of us got down from that rickshaw, there was a big bungalow right in front of the ashram and the green beds around the bungalow were adding to the beauty of that house.
When the Pandit youth told that those people live in this front bungalow, then a proud smile appeared on my lips, my guess turned out to be accurate, that girl was from the family of Pandit family.

I entered the ashram after sending them off, since I had come from Mumbai after a long time wanting to visit this place, so I felt it appropriate to stay at the ashram.

I had come with a holiday for about a week, in this one week I visited the whole city along with the village.
Right-left, Thakur and Bhumihar and other castes had their homes, and in the middle of the village, Pandit’s luxurious bungalow, whose walls were silent, was telling the agony of injustice being done to women.
There was a family to say, but never even the whispering of women there, apart from men, did not even touch the ears. Sometimes, even if by chance touching a woman’s voice, the heart would be shaken because sometimes the cries of women could be heard from that bungalow, the cries of women being whipped by the pundit.
The area on the right and left of the village was full of commotion and excitement. There was often an atmosphere of laughter and laughter between women and men, after the whole day’s work, the women would go out together for a walk behind the village towards the gardeners and the men united to light the bonfire. While gossiping among themselves, the atmosphere there was cheerful and there was equality, solidarity and respect for each other between men and women.
But in the middle of the village, there was silence in Pandit’s bungalow, neither the noise of enthusiasm nor the noise of excitement, nor the children’s playing childhood nor the smile of the youth of the women. There was nothing in that bungalow except mere fear, humiliation of women, the proud roar of men, because in that family, women were not allowed to speak, nor was it the custom of freedom for daughters to remain silent. and women were taught to keep their heads bowed.

The pain of those family women was hurting me so much that I started repenting on the decision to come here, only a sigh was coming out of my mind… God should never give such a family to any woman where women have no respect. No…