Shadows in the Sun

By Rukhsana Hasib

Twenty-one-year old Mayuri is afraid. For the second time, she has disgraced her husband and failed to give birth to a male heir. To make matters worse, this time she had twin girls. Her mother-in-law is outraged at her failure and takes action.

Events escalate and Mayuri is forced to flee with her four year old daughter, Rajani who witnesses her mothers plight from her hiding place.

When her husband catches up to her, a deadly confrontation takes place which compels Mayuri to lie and reinvent her past. She faces unexpected challenges and adapts to a new religion and culture.

When all her lies unravel, Mayuri pays a heavy price. But eventually, mother and daughter have to deal with the truth and its consequences.

Rukhsana Hasibs beautifully written and passionate account of life in our world where so many cultures and religions are in conflict is like a brilliant ray of sunshine; it illuminates as it elevates. Above all, it is a reaffirmation of the beauty and courage of the human spirit.
- Professor Akbar Ahmend
Ibu Khaldun chair of Islamic studies,
American University, Washington, DC

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abbott Press
• Release date: Apr 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781458201119

Rukhsana Hasib

Rukhsana Hasib came to the United States in 1971, earned an MBA at Rutgers University, and went on to work as a commercial lending officer. She is the author of the novel Shackles of Time and a short story called “Redemption of Red,” which was published in an anthology of Diaspora writers, poets, and artists in 2011.

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Foreword

Prologue

Kalidum village (India1971)

The Twins

Murder

Rajani

Birth and Death

Mayuri’s Misfortune

Matchmaking for Mayuri

Nimaii

Rajani’s Birth

Mayuri’s Escape

Fear of Discovery

Mayuri’s Childhood

Stepmother

First Love

Stepmother Spies

Mother’s Words

Wedding Day

The First Night

Serve and Endure

Joys of Motherhood

Confrontation in the Woods

Going Back to Father

Look Away

Choices

Mother’s Milk

The Cradle of Mercy

News from across the Border

Rescue

Secrets

Bashanthi

Servants Gossip

No-Name Beggar Boy

Early Years

Mayuri begins a New Life

Rajani adjusts to her new Surroundings

School

Rajani Sen

Powerful Beginning

Truth

Glass Bangles

Bashanthi Knows

Widow White

Truth

Crime and Consequence

Dilemma

Mayuri Must Go

Abu Jamil and Sara Jones

Leaving the Sanctuary

Bangladesh 1973

Shafi Mia

The Seventh Son

The Enduring Friendship

New Beginning in Bangladesh

Rajani Finds a Friend

Golden Pond

Love at Golden Pond

Obsession

Virgin Bride

Sins of the Father

Desire

Family Secrets

The Touch of Fulfillment

Warm Milk and Tea Biscuits

Home at Darbari House

Lonely Place for Rajani

Running Away

Rajani is found

Cow Dung Detail

A New Experience

Legend of Golden Pond

Desirable Daughter-in-Law

Baby Boy

Celebration

The Preparations

The Slaughter

Feast Day

Seed of Resentment

Yusuf Jamil Visits

Tragedy

Days of Mourning

Shiraz Ali Darbari

The Truth Must Be Told

South Carolina, USA

Youthful Indiscretion

Forbidden Kisses

The Price of Forbidden Kisses

Going through the Motions

Sally Ann Makes a Difference

The Power of Forgiveness

Joseph Jamil

A New Life for Sara

Mayuri is Cast Out

Growing Apart

Philadelphia 1992

The Meeting

The Bonds of Love

Rajani Reflects

St. Lucia 1992

Waiting

Dreams and Reality

Yusuf and Rajani

Fleeting Moments

Mother and Son

Rajani and Sara

Crime

My Bapu, My Father

Shadows in the Sun

Peering into the Past

Shiraz Ali Darbari

Finding Love Again

Second Chances

Coming Home 1995

Glossary

To my wonderful sons:

Azeem Raza Choudhury and Aslam Raza Choudhury.

Acknowledgments

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My deepest gratitude to Professor Akbar Ahmed, Ibu Khaldun Chair of Islamic Studies at American University in Washington, DC, who took an interest in my work and the story I wanted to tell and gave me much encouragement.

I am thankful to my two sons for their help and their faith in me: Azeem Raza has been my rock and I admire his wisdom, which far exceeds his years, and Aslam Raza, whose charm, wit, and eloquence never cease to amaze me.

Most of all, I am profoundly grateful to my father, M.A. Hasib who was lost to me in a horrific act of violence so long ago but remains my guiding force throughout my life. My father was far ahead of his times. He believed in education and intellectual and economic independence for his daughters and he taught me values of discipline and hard work and encouraged me to speak my mind.

I am fortunate that I stand on the shoulders of three women whose faith, courage, and strength have helped me to finally become the woman I am today: my mother, Hawa-Run-Nessa Hasib, who led her life with grace and dignity despite the anguish she suffered in 1971 when the Pakistan army threw her in prison camp, along with my baby sisters, after they murdered my father in their brutal genocide operation; my maternal grandmother, Sonkia Hasan Ali Mian, who could neither read nor write but remained the hands-on matriarch of a sizable farm business till the age of eighty; and my paternal grandmother, Daulat-un-Nessa Munfer Ali Mian, whose gift of healing and caring for the poor touched so many lives. When she died in 1967, more than five hundred people from neighboring villages came to say their last farewell and mourn her passing.

I am also fortunate to have a truly remarkable woman, Anna Marie Shevchik, who has, over the years, rightfully claimed her place not just as my dearest and closest friend but as my sister. Despite recent challenges of her own, she has never failed to encourage me and has been my strongest advocate.

Foreword

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Being from an Eastern culture, I am acutely aware of the abuses and oppression of women in Eastern societies, particularly among the poor. The birth of a daughter is still considered a misfortune by a vast number of people. As daughters grow up, the burden multiplies because of the age-old custom, still prevalent in many parts, of giving dowry to a groom and his family in order to procure a suitable marriage. The birth of a boy, on the other hand, is celebrated. A son is duty bound to provide financial and physical support for parents in their old age and becomes the sentinel of the family name.

When I learned that even in the twenty-first century, female infanticide, in some form, is still tolerated and practiced in some remote areas in India, I decided to tell this story.

Many use selective abortion to get rid of female babies with the help of greedy doctors who use ultrasound techniques to divulge the sex of the fetus. Some years ago India outlawed selective abortions of female fetuses. However, enforcement of these crimes falls through the cracks often and corrupt officials can be easily bribed to look the other way.

Women give birth; nurture the young; comfort the old when the end is near; and pray over the dead. Most of all, women continue on with traditions and rituals that connect one generation to another. Yet they are regarded as inferior by a society dominated by men.

Women have come a long way and are beginning to break free from just serving and enduring their established fate. Today, many are not just mothers, teachers, and homemakers but shine at every profession including leadership roles in politics. Still, in many parts of the world, including the Western World, a vast number of women are diminished and brutalized by men.

Through the story of Shadows in the Sun, I add my voice to the millions of women who have stood up and fought for women’s rights with the hope that eventually our collective voices will ring loudly enough to be heard in every corner of the world. We will command the respect and honor we deserve as mothers, daughters, sisters, and wives.

Prologue

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Look What They Done to Me, Ma!

Poem

She nurtures him in her womb. Skin stretched tight over her swollen belly, she carries him till she is ready to explode.

Her insides are raw. It rips open as he pushes his way out and emerges into the world. She snuggles him in her arms, birth gook and all, unclenches his fist, touches his little fingers, and her heart fills with joy as she suckles him to her breast, filled with unimaginable wonder of this little being that she grew in her body.

She laughs, she cries, and she pays no attention to the thick red blood that flows out of her. She holds him close, and she vows to protect him for the rest of her life.

She fetches and carries and cooks and cleans and lies with him as he humps and pants and indulges. She comforts him in his despair, nurses him when he is sick, and bears his children.

She is burdened, she is exhausted, and still she carries on. She rips out her soul and sets it aside, next to her aching heart. Her time will come, she hopes.

She is woman; a beast of burden, she lives to serve. She gives life, nurtures the young, comforts the sick, prays over the dead, and becomes the thread which connects one generation to another.

Slut! Bitch! they yell as they spit at her and tear at her flesh and wound her soul.

Hold her down! they shout. They climb between her legs—thrusting, punching, hurting.

Stop! Look at me! I am your mother. Your daughter! Your sister! Your lover! Your wife! she screams.

She lies in a pool of her own blood; eyes wide open, limbs broken, the stench of her rotting flesh nauseating her. She is beaten, raped, and murdered by those she loved and served.

Oh! My son, my father, my brother, my husband!

She weeps.

They do not hear, they do not listen, and they do not care.

She gasps, she chokes, and the last part of her being dies—diminished.

They walk away, unmoved.

Kalidum village (India1971)

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It was early in the day yet.

Like all her other days, it began with her daily chores: washing, sweeping, peeling potatoes, chopping vegetables, grinding masala, boiling dal, cooking a big pot of rice, and pouring endless cups of tea, from an aluminum kettle, for her mother-in-law’s enjoyment.

This day, however, turned out to be no ordinary day. It would bring with it unimaginable changes in the lives of many.

Mayuri sighed. She prepared a little extra food, just in case!

"Will it come today, Maiee?" Little Rajani ran around her mother in circles, kicking up dirt with her bare feet and noisily sucking on a lemon drop.

How should I know? It will come when it will come, Mayuri snapped.

The child’s face clouded instantly.

Mayuri regretted her harshness and softened her tone. Come and help me put these clothes out to dry. And Rajani, maybe, it will come today.

Rajani perked up, burst into excited chatter, and ran to help.

Dragging her feet and occasionally caressing her stomach to soothe the uneasy feeling in the pit of her belly, Mayuri went back inside to tend to the dal she had left boiling on the wood-burning stove. She glanced longingly at the sleeping mat at opposite end of the kitchen which was her mother-in-law’s sleeping area and hungered for the taste of a little rest, a few minutes of indulgence to ease her discomfort.

But what would Mother-in-Law say? Mayuri feared the old woman’s anger. But her tired body urged her on. She would get up before her mother-in-law caught her resting.

She twisted her long black hair around and around with one hand, tied it in a bun at the nape of her neck, and sighed again. Her soulful dark eyes watered, and she squeezed her eyelids tightly together to stop the tears from rolling out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She sat on the dirt floor, leaned her head against the wall, closed her eyes and drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

Do you have no sense, stupid girl? Look what you have done! Mother-in-Law was shaking Mayuri. The dal is boiling over. You think it doesn’t cost money?

Mayuri’s long lashes flew open. She dragged herself up, adjusted her sari, and proceeded to contain the damage her few minutes of shuteye had caused.

Just look at her? Her mother-in-law sneered, speaking as if she was addressing an audience. As if no one ever carried a child in her belly except this one? She slapped her palms together and squashed a fly buzzing around the spilled food.

As the day progressed, the uneasiness in her belly turned into a slow burn, and then into a tortured churning inside of her. It was time.

Go tell your grandmother to send for the midwife, Mayuri called out to Rajani. I think the baby is coming. She waddled back into the shack, set a kettle of water on the stove to boil, spread out a straw mat, and lay down to wait while Rajani ran to tell her grandmother the exciting news.

Nimaii hurried to fetch the midwife while his mother put her palms together in prayer hoping Mayuri would give birth to her first grandson this time. She had waited patiently since her daughter-in-law gave birth to the girl, Rajani almost four years ago.

I need a grandson, she declared, someone to carry on Nimaii’s name and earn money to feed us in our old age. She urged Mayuri to try harder to fulfill her wifely duties in order to conceive again.

This time, however, Mother-in-Law was taking no chances. Regardless of the outcome of all her prayers, she was determined not to add more girls to the family. She knew the midwife had an excellent reputation for discretion in these matters, should the need arise.

Not originally from these parts, the midwife had suddenly appeared in the village of Kalidum, some twenty years ago and made her home in an old abandoned shack at the outskirts of the village. She then went door to door and offered her services to expectant mothers. No one really knew her name or anything about her people but she was readily admitted to all the homes in the neighboring villages when word spread of her special skills. Midwife had a real knack for not only bringing babies into the world but also for handling low valued birth of female or handicapped babies, quietly and quickly.

She preferred to be known only as midwife and that is what everyone called her.

Midwife hurried back with Nimaii and as soon as she arrived, Mayuri’s mother-in-law took her aside. They agreed on a plan of action should it become necessary.

Don’t worry; I will take care of everything. Midwife grabbed her satchel and hurried to the stream, promising to return quickly. There, she found what she needed. The oleander shrubs grew in clusters along the bed, swaying in the breeze, their showy, white and pink flowers, hiding in all their fragrant beauty, a deadly poison. She collected the oleander sap in her jar, carefully put a few drops of a clear liquid from a small bottle and returned with the toxic, milky mixture.

Mother-in-Law stuck her head out the door and mumbled through a wad of beetle nut and pan leaves, which she had stuffed in her cheek.

I don’t want another curse, a burden for life, she told her son. Don’t go anywhere, Nimaii, she muttered under her breath. I may need you. She spat out beetle nut juice through her rotting teeth and went inside to wait.

Worthless girls! Simply worthless! Nimaii muttered as he lit a bidi and waited for a sign of good fortune. The birth of a son should prove his superior manhood to the entire village.

In his own way, Nimaii cared for his daughter, Rajani, but as a female, she was still a burden. He would have to spend years raising her till she was of marriageable age. Till then, she had to be provided for and her virtues closely guarded from the time she attained puberty so she could make a good marriage.

Then there was the trouble of finding a suitable groom and providing a dowry as well!

The Twins

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Mayuri cried out as contractions ripped through her belly but still muttered her prayers, as she had done, every day since she became certain of her pregnancy. Her mother-in-law instructed her to visualize the phallus in a ritual of daily prayers and chanting. That, she believed would get the attention of the gods and they would favor her with a male child. It was time now to find out if the gods were listening. Mayuri groaned and clutched her belly. Rajani came running to her mother’s side and held her hand, not knowing how to comfort her.

Get away. Stay outside. Mother-in-Law took charge and pushed the child out of the door.

The agonizing efforts to push out the child left Mayuri weak and exhausted. Her body soaked in perspiration, she felt like a fish caught in a fisherman’s net, struggling, and unable to escape. The midwife, assisting with the birthing, ordered her to lie still and concentrate on pushing as Mayuri rocked from side to side and moaned.

Push, you stupid girl. And stop all that noise. You are not the only woman who had to do this, her mother-in-law hissed through missing front teeth.

Mayuri sunk her teeth into her lip in an attempt to silence her screams and tasted blood.

Ma—Ma, she cried in vain, and then she called out to her little girl. Rajani. Rajani. Just saying her daughter’s name comforted her a little. Her little girl, the only solace in her life did not answer. No one else here had any sympathy for her? Mayuri longed for her own mother to be by her side at a moment like this to ease her anguish.

Shut up and keep pushing. Mother-in-Law had no patience with her.

Mayuri looked up, tears trickling down her cheeks, searching for a hint of sympathy in the woman’s face. Mother-in-Law stared back, cold, unfeeling, intent on the job at hand. Mayuri pursed her lips together and swallowed the scream rising from her throat.

It was getting dark and after several hours of labor had passed Mayuri could no longer bear the excruciating pain in silence. She let out a long series of agonizing screams and pushed with all her might, her face distorted at the sheer hardship of the effort. Yes, she could do it. Push, scream, push, scream, push, and scream. Yes, yes, yes, a tiny, little head appeared. One more push and she did it. The infant slipped out covered in birth gook.

Aahh! The midwife grunted and got ready to cut off the umbilical cord but Mayuri was still screaming and pushing.

Her labor was not over yet. Another little head appeared.

Push! Both women shouted.

There were two infants—two sons for her husband. Mayuri had done a good job, she thought. She slumped back on the mat, closed her eyes, and heaved a sigh of relief.

One by one, Mayuri’s mother-in-law picked up the babies, and took them closer to the flickering light of the oil lamp to have a look. She held each one up and checked their privates and let out a scream.

Stupid girl, see now what you have gone and done. Stupid! What a stupid girl you are! Just look at the problem you have created for us. Her face dark with rage, Mother-in-Law turned menacingly toward Mayuri.

Oh, no! Dizzy and weak, Mayuri began to tremble, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

For shame! Mother-in-Law spat the words at her.

Her outstretched arms to hold her newborn infants were ignored by the two women with an agenda of their own. Knowing glances were exchanged between them. Mayuri knew the possible consequence of giving birth to two girls. She lowered her gaze and hung her head.

Think, think, and say something. Make a promise. Anything?

She dragged her weary body up on her hands and knees, crawling on the dirt floor. With both hands she grabbed her mother-in-law’s feet and pleaded.

I will give you a boy before the year is out, Mayuri sobbed. Just one more chance, please?

That you will, you stupid girl. She hissed like a deadly serpent through her rotting, clenched teeth. The steely look in her eyes gave away her intentions. She gestured at the midwife, who nodded in return.

Throughout the pregnancy, Mother-in-Law had taken it upon herself to remind Mayuri often, that in addition to prayers and chanting, her first thought each morning and her last thought each night should be about the son she was about to deliver for her husband.

Imagine the phallic symbol when you pray, she commanded and reminded her, in no uncertain terms, that failure to give birth to a boy would not be acceptable.

Despite all that chanting and praying, however, Mayuri did not get what she wanted. She had failed her husband again.

She had feared the consequences of her failure a second time; the first time being the birth of Rajani, which was reluctantly accepted but not forgiven either by her husband or her mother-in-law. So as Mayuri’s belly began to grow this time, she covered the roundness of it under her loosely tied sari and concentrated on the daily regimen of prayer prescribed by her mother-in-law. She urged the gods to hear her pleas and stroked her swelling belly; speaking softly to the child she was carrying. Please be a son—oh, please.

At times, she urged Rajani to put her palms together and pray for a baby brother. The gods always hear the prayers of little children, she said.

The gods betrayed her again.

Mayuri struggled with the shadow of fear which descended upon her, forming dark and deadly shapes as her mother-in-law and midwife moved about the small room, whispering.

Oh, no, Mayuri shuddered. She was aware of the age old practice of killing unwanted female infants, still prevalent in many remote parts of India and felt powerless against the two women who stared down at her without the slightest hint of compassion.

The practice of female infanticide, the intentional killing of baby girls due to a preference for male babies, particularly in poor Hindu families, continued in rural Indian society, till the middle of the twentieth century and was considered a necessary course of action for many families burdened with poverty and hopelessness. The reasons for this bias against daughters are due to practical reasons. The birth of a son is viewed as an asset and the birth of a daughter as a liability. Sons grow up and work in the fields and provide financial support to aging parents while daughters are burdens who have to be raised and married off to suitable husbands who often demand cash dowries in order to accept a marriage proposal. Mayuri had heard about these killings and the fear of losing her babies flooded her mind like the gushing rivers during monsoon rains.

Mayuri had also heard that some girl babies were spared and left in a local orphanage run by Christian nuns. The discarded baby was placed in a cradle that stood on the covered verandah of the orphanage which the locals referred to, as Kalidum Ashram, since no one could pronounce it by its proper name in English, Cradle of Mercy. The orphanage had made it quick and easy for anyone wanting to leave a baby there. A side door was always left unlocked to facilitate the baby drop in secret. As soon as the baby was placed in the cradle, an attached bell rang; announcing the new arrival and the baby was taken inside. Mayuri knew that the place was not too far. She would take these poor unfortunate creatures there.

Please, Mayuri pleaded, tomorrow morning, very early, I will leave them at the Ashram. No one will know. We will tell everyone they were stillborn. Her words fell on deaf ears.

Born dead. That was exactly the way it was going to be, her mother-in-law thought. But those missionaries will not get their hands on these babies and convert them. They were better off dead. This was an age old accepted solution and it was better this way.

Quick and simple. Clean!

Murder

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Undernourished, overworked, and with no prenatal care, Mayuri was now bleeding profusely. Her face flushed with the strain of childbirth, she looked thin and small, quite unlike a woman of twenty.

Let me hold them, she stretched out her arms and said softly.

Get back, Mother-in-Law commanded. Here take this and fix yourself. She threw a rag and a string at her. It is best you do not see them.

Mayuri folded the rag, secured it between her legs, and tied it with the string round her waist to soak up the blood pouring out of her.

The straw mat upon which she lay, bloody with the remnants of childbirth, felt cold and sticky. Mayuri lay back down, shivering, watchfully eying the midwife wrap the infants tightly in rags cut out from an old sari. The women made no attempt to help her clean up or cover her with a blanket. They were whispering again and the babies were crying.

Let her hold them for just a moment, the midwife whispered.

Here, take them then. Mother-in-Law said and brought the tiny little creatures and placed them in their mother’s arms. She thought her mother-in-law had a change of heart and Mayuri cradled the babies to her bosom and gave her a grateful look. She held the tiny babies close and began to cry. Sweat trickled off Mayuri’s brow on to the babies as she kissed them over and over. Comforted, the babies stopped crying. They seemed so helpless and in need of her protection. Tomorrow she would give them up, take them to be raised by the sisters at the ashram. These poor little creatures will live. And for a brief moment Mayuri was relieved.

Now that’s enough. Lie still girl. The midwife came forward and took the infants out of her arms. They began to cry.

Not yet. She snatched them right back. Tomorrow, before anyone is up, I will take them. She cradled the crying babies, swaying back and forth, soothing them.

Shut up, girl, Mother-in-Law snapped. "You have the wrong idea.

Mayuri realized that her mother-in-law had not had a change of heart. Don’t hurt them, she was begging.

So tiny, barely bigger than kittens, her babies, needed special care to survive, and, as her milk began to flow, she wanted to hold them, to suckle them at her breast, to sustain their lives.

Just for tonight . . . She held them to her bosom and went back to sit on her mat. She would protect them, her flesh and blood, just for tonight. Tomorrow she would appeal to her husband and Nimaii would go with her to the Kalidum Ashram and leave the babies there. But tonight she had to convince her mother in law that this was the right thing to do.

Mother-in-Law retreated to the shadows. A flicker of hope began to appear and Mayuri thought that once morning came, her mother-in-law will take another look at these poor little creatures and have pity. She will let her keep them. Mayuri closed her eyes and dozed off, just for a while, her infants at her breast, comforted.

Shortly afterwards, Mayuri suddenly became aware of the activity in the room and opened her eyes. The oil lamp flickered and the shadows on the wall made her anxious again. She blinked, narrowed her eyes, and peered into the dimly lit shack. They were whispering in the corner again and Mayuri cringed. Instinctively she knew that they were preparing for the worst.

What should she do? What could she do? Almost as if unable to awake from a bad dream, Mayuri began to call out for someone to come in and break this murderous spell.

Rajani, come here! Mayuri shouted with all her strength but no sound came out of her mouth.

Mayuri whimpered and begged. Don’t do this! Look at them! Let them live—so small.

The women in the room said nothing.

She must appeal to her husband, get him to hear her. He must see what they are doing and stop them.

"Rajani, Rajani, where are you? Call your father. Tell him to come quick." Somewhere deep in his crude and cruel heart, she hoped to find a hint of pity for these babies.

After all, Nimaii seemed to care for Rajani and sometimes even played with her.

No one came.

The light from the oil lamp flickered, fanned by the movement of the shadows in the far end of the shack, shadows coming closer, and filling her with terror. The shadows were now advancing toward her. The shadows had arms which were pushing her down and grabbing the infants away from her.

Quickly, hurry, Mother-in-Law ordered.

The midwife sprang to action. Minutes ago, she had plucked the infants from Mayuri’s womb, and she was getting ready now to snuff the life out of them.

No! Mayuri felt the dam burst in her throat and heard the sounds of her own screams.

A stinging slap came crashing upon her cheek, hurting, burning. Mayuri fell back, but not for long. A surge of strength suddenly came over her and she lunged forward to grab her mother-in-law’s leg. She pulled, trying to extricate herself, but Mayuri would not let go.

I told you what would happen if you gave birth to a girl again, and you gave birth to two. Who do you think will feed them and provide a dowry to get them married off? Mother-in law finally broke free, rushed forward, slapped her again, and pushed her to the ground.

I told you I will take them to the ashram tomorrow, Mayuri cried.

No. Never! It will disgrace my son if anyone found out. I want no one to know. This is the best way, I say. Mother-in-Law pushed her down. Born dead, that’s that.

Rajani, get your father quickly. Stop, please. Mayuri pleaded. I won’t let you do this!

Shut up girl, her mother-in-law hissed through clenched teeth. No! Mayuri lunged forward and tried to snatch the babies away but the women were too quick. With every fiber of her being, Mayuri scratched and clawed till they managed to subdue her. Mother-in- Law restrained her and the midwife proceeded to straddle Mayuri and pin her down. She then tied her arms and legs and stuffed a rag in her mouth.

Unable to move, Mayuri watched helplessly as her mother-in-law was calmly committing the murder of her children. She struggled in vain to set herself free from the ropes that bound her.

"Bhogoban! Durga Ma, help me." Mayuri’s heart screamed out to the gods she knew.

Anyone? Please. Her words were lost in the beastly sounds which emerged from her throat; the rag stuffed in her mouth was gagging her.

No one came to her rescue.

One by one, Mother-in-Law held the infants in the crook of one arm and dipped her finger into the jar of the milky, white toxic mixture; sap of the oleander plant and the midwife’s special poison and let the little lips suck on her finger. To expedite the process, she then opened the tiny mouth and poured down a few drops of the sweet poison directly into the infant’s throat. Back and forth, she rocked the infant till the tiny little lips began to turn blue. She lay the little one down on the mat, close to her mother, and picked up the next one and proceeded to put the death concoction into her little mouth.

Within a short while, the tiny bodies began twisting and convulsing. They were gasping for breath—gurgling—gasping—gurgling—gasping. The babies were suffocating. The death concoction was attacking them from the inside. The lungs, the kidneys, the central nervous system, and their hearts all were painfully shutting down. Bits of foam appeared at the corners of their tiny lips. They were in agony. Soon they were turning blue.

The room became quiet. Finally, the babies lay still.

Rajani

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In the dark corner of the shack, unseen, crouched the frightened little girl, frozen, watching, helpless and horrified. Rajani saw her mother laying in a pool of blood, the babies torn out of her body, from between her legs, covered in gook, hanging by curly cords tied to her mother’s insides. From the shadows, the little girl watched the bloody mess all over the mat and shivered. She squeezed her eyes shut for just a moment and then opened them again. She couldn’t look away. She heard her mother screaming and saw her grandmother and the midwife holding her distraught mother down, snatching the babies away from her, beating her.

Rajani! Rajani! Her mother was calling out her name but Rajani couldn’t move except for the violent trembling of her body.

If only Bapu would come, she thought. He would make them stop.

Earlier, when her mother first began her labor, Rajani had seen her father sitting under the mango tree behind the hut smoking one beedi after another waiting for the babies to be born. It was getting dark now and he was gone.

"Bapu, father, where are you?" Rajani mouthed the words but sounds of her voice stuck in her throat like a ball of sticky rice. She was choking, eyes bulging, as sure as if someone was holding her down too, forcing down the sticky ball of rice, squeezing her throat.

Rajani wanted to run, to hide and brush away the sight before her eyes. But she couldn’t move. She shut her eyes and when she opened them again, it was all there: her mother, the blood, those naked little creatures so small and feisty, wailing softly, and then lying still.

Horrible! Horrible!

She heard her grandmother scolding her mother. These are just worthless girl children. If you cannot bear male children, go drown yourself in shame.

Then she ordered her mother to forget it all and lie again with her husband as soon as she was able and give birth to a boy. Rajani didn’t understand.

The midwife was removing the gag, and warning her mother not to scream. This is our way. It is the only way, she said and untied her.

Rajani stayed still in her hiding place, and then she heard her grandmother calling to her father. Nimaii, hurry up.

She saw her father come in with a jute sack.

There he was, at last! He would make everything okay again. No need to worry now. Rajani felt reassured, for a moment. He was the only one who invoked fear in everyone. They wouldn’t dare hurt her mother again. Her Maiee would be safe now.

"Bapu, Bapu." Rajani ran to him.

She found her voice, which was small, quivering, making no sense. She tried to tell him what they had done to Maiee. She was bleeding. They were hurting her. But he wouldn’t listen. He didn’t understand.

"Just stay out of the way, girl. Bapu has to do a job and the sooner it is done the better it is for everyone. If I catch you watching again I will skin you alive," her father scolded.

Rajani retreated into the shadows, his harsh words wounding her little heart. He had hit her many times but never threatened her with such dire consequences before.

And for what? Rajani was in tears.

She didn’t do anything. She knew her mother had a baby in her belly and would give birth. She suspected it was coming out from somewhere down there, although she was not quite sure of it. To be skinned alive just for just watching her mother push out two little babies from inside her? Bapu was mean but she wouldn’t listen to him. She would hide and watch.

Rajani watched her mother wailing, stretching out her arms, begging and saying something Rajani could not understand. She saw her mother pressing the limp little ones to her quivering bosom one more time.

Stop it, woman! They are dead! They go in a hole in the ground! Nimaii yelled. He snatched the two little bodies away from his wife, wrapped them in rags and put the bundles in his sack.

Briskly he walked out and into the dark night.

Birth and Death

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Despite the physical and emotional trauma, her exhausted body succumbed to sleep and Mayuri was no longer aware of the sinister shadows moving about the shabby hut, covering up all remnants of the horrific crime.

Hours later a horrific nightmare jolted Mayuri awake. She peered into the dimly lit room, attempting to clear her mind and brush away the foggy haze. She opened her eyes wide, pulled herself up from the mat, her body weak, her mind still clouded with the heartbreaking events and realized this was no nightmare. She was re-living her ordeal. Her heart silently screamed and she held back the tears that threatened to fall and reached inside her being for strength. This was no time to let her weak body and her sorrow dictate her fate, Mayuri thought. She knew she had no one to lean on but herself and what happened to her life from here on was up to her. Focusing her eyes on her surroundings, she knew what she must do.

They were her flesh and blood; she had grown them in her body and anticipated their birth, and she had gone into painful labor to bring them into this world, only to watch the life snuffed out of them. She was not aware that a dark plot had been hatched earlier and the ugly events would be carried out, turning the miracle of birth to the darkness of death in a matter of minutes.

And their father did not even give them fire. He tossed them in a hole in the ground somewhere, without ritual.

No time for a fire, no need for the stench of burning flesh floating in the air for everyone to talk about and speculate, she heard her mother-in-law whisper to Nimaii. It must be done quickly, and now. Tomorrow we can forget they were ever born and you can work on having a boy next time.