She was poor but not dumb. She was illiterate but intelligent. She was white unlike all her brownish siblings. She was beautiful with brown eyes but small height. She was married to a man who was honest in all aspects of his life. Her husband was busy in devotional works and had nothing to do with his family and children. She had a little field and a hut for her living. She had six children, four of them were boys. Her children were her assets. She had worked hard in the field no matter it was Sun or Rain over her head and she had earned one and half rupees in three weeks by selling the crops of her field. She managed monthly fees of her two oldest sons from those rupees. She was pain in the eye of all villagers as it was only her son in village who were going to primary school.

She was wrapping pickles in a piece of cloth as she was bidding her sons to school at the end of a field in the early morning when Sun was yet to appear.  She had arranged a place in the city where her two sons can reside in evening after school.  She had very obedient sons who know the value of tears in the eyes of their tired mother. Slowly her sons disappeared among the fields followed by large cane crops and trees. Birds were chirping when she slowly took out the old black and white photograph of her two sons and kissed them affectionately with tears in eyes. She returned back to her hut where her youngest girl was crying endlessly. Her eight months old daughter was in need of milk. But she had nothing for her as she was not producing any because of lack of food from many days. She wetted cotton and put it into her mouth, it was fourth time in a row when she was dripping her daughter with water.



She opened her old box and picked up a pair of silver bangles she had. She looked at them and went into flashback. Those bangles were given to her by her mother as her last sign. She had promised her mother to pass those bangles to her daughter-in- law. She came back to present as she heard her daughter crying which was more intense this time filled with pain. Her daughter was more important than those bangles. She sold her last pair of silver bangles and save her little baby from starving to death.

Days, months and years passed by, she somehow managed to carry her legacy to fight her poverty and sending all her children to a nearby town to study. One by one all of her children moved to city and followed the path shown by their elder brothers, who were first to move to town. She fight her faith, changed her destiny but trouble never left her alone. Her eldest son died at the age of 29 of cancer leaving her wife and three children behind. She also moved to the town to live with her son who was now working in a government only because of grace and sacrifice of her mother. All of her children were doing well with their life with the help of his son who was among those two sons.

Once she was having a ice cream with her son, grandsons and granddaughters  when she started to cry affectionately. She stood up from her chair and kissed her forty five years old son on his fore head. We were a little surprised to see how our grand maa becomes so emotional at the moment. For the moment she was lost in the hut she used to live and the bangle that she sold and lots of untold sacrifice she made to craft her children what they are at present day. And I guess when she returned back to ice cream she could not stop her tears because of the result she got of her hard days. And then after finishing my ice cream I asked daadi to give me her icecream. And she selflessly moved her hand with ice cream towards me with a smile.


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