He Followed The Same Path

Photo by:Abneet Chauhan

Tahiba Khan

Mangu’s house was located on the periphery of the village. Only mud paved roads were the way he used to follow everyday to reach his place of work and to come back to his small two yard spaced home. Mangu was always positive about his work. He always worked hard. But he was very skeptical about rain; he sometimes hated the trouble it caused him. His house was almost wet and cracked whenever rains showed their way to his village. He along with his family had seen many sleepless nights while collecting the rain drops in the small tumbler used for bathing to save his beloved house from further wetting. This was not end to his trouble, whenever rain got finished, he and his wife with their children, spent days and nights rebuilding cracked floor and walls made of mud and cow dung. He doesn't own anything except his labour, he always asked for cow dung hesitatingly to his master in exchange of work done by his wife in their kitchen.

His family resided in one room, cooked on chullah. In that room he, along with his family shared the anger, love, jealousy with the different generation and sexes. It was looked as if there were no concept of the young and old. Sometimes Mangu behaved like a boy and sometimes his children behaved like an old man.

Mangu had three children, among whom first two were the girls and last one was boy. Mangu always wanted to have boy instead of girl similar to the other fellows of his locality. 

When Sabina, his wife was pregnant first time he was sure that he will be blessed with a boy but his desire of a boy was washed away when her wife gave birth to a girl. He walked away from the house, and didn’t even think of seeing the new life sprouted in his house. When he came in the evening he looked at the bud with a side look trying to ignore her partially and at the same time felt thirsty for her glimpse. Days passed he didn't show his affection towards the baby.

One day he, finally broke when he saw the baby smiling on her own, when a squirrel entered from the open window in search of the few grains scattered on the mud floor, inside the room. His wife was out in neighbor’s house. Feel attracted by her smile he automatically drove towards the only cot on which the baby was lying on her small-flat tommy. He went near and sat on the cot for a while and touched her with his index finger, and a tear rolled from his eyes. His dry hands took seconds for the tear to extinct. As if it was never existed.

Mangu's life had never changed after that; he used the same mud paved roads to his work and hated rain for the trouble it caused him. He worked from morning to evening, for the money to keep him and his family alive for the next day labour. 

Mangu’s wife was again blessed with the God’s gift. That time Mangu was hopeful towards his destiny. But it was again a girl. A girl, whose featured were so beautiful that her mother immediately planted a kiss on her tiny-soft forehead, and forgot her post delivery pain.

Mangu was in distress.  But he again involved in his work as always, using the same mud paved roads.

His wife was in labour pain surrounded by the locality women. He was not concerned when his wife was pregnant third time, and was not expecting anything. But it was a boy. Everybody was happy, there was celebration. Mangu was overwhelmed by this desire of which he was expecting since the first birth to his wife. He took loan from his Malik to celebrate his son’s birth. He distributed boondi ki ladoo. He went again and again to his wife and pressed his kiss on the head of an infant, and in return his body felt the dreams he was expecting in future. 

He again involved in his work as always, he children grew more, with time. His son was pampered one, his daughters were also loved partially. In their limited resources, his son was given the first option to have anything. His daughters started working in the fields along with their mother, and helped in accumulating some income. That accumulated income never actually accumulated. Their extra labour adjusted with the rising prices. His son was involved in the habit on drinking. He all the day roamed with his friends, and whenver came back fought with his sisters on petty issues like why they were standing out, or staring at some boys in locality, or not wearing dupatta etc...He also shouted on her mother, when she not fulfilled his wish to cook of his choices. He never understood his family conditions. 

His father was on doubt about his drinking and intoxication, but one night he was confirmed when his son didn't come to home. He searched for him around the fields and village. Occupied with weird thoughts, Mangu didn't sleep that night. Next morning some men took him on their shoulders, from the distant place to his home. He was drenched in mud. He was unable to stand on his feet. It was last night hangover which was not passed away. When his father was called off from fields, he saw him lying on cot, his wife was crying, and her daughters were standing silent. He was heartbroken and remembered the day he wished for a boy. He went to her daughters, hugged both of them, and said "I'm lucky that you were blessed on me.... "

Mangu followed the same path, mud paved roads...he was always cynical about the rain, despite it flourished harvest he worked on master's fields.