Padmashree

By Deshbandhu Jadli

"Padmashree" is about a woman from Garhwal, a village at the base of the Himalayan Mountains. She faced many challenges from her childhood. In want of a normal life of a simple girl, she encounters an unpredicted incident that ultimately changes her life completely.

Ila lives in a small town in the hills. Her father makes an earning by giving their house on rent to tourists. Things are smooth till a devil comes in the house and he is there to stay. Ila's life will never be the same again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Mar 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504996358

Deshbandhu Jadli

Deshbandhu Jadli is a painter, sculptor, and a writer. He was born in a small village, Dugadda, in Uttarakhand in 1946. Art was in his genes, inherited from his parents. He never got any formal art education, but he excelled in all forms of artwork. He grew up as an amazing self-taught artist and always had a desire to do something unique. Thoughtful mind and creativity always lead him to do something out of the box. Artwork, though, helped and served him as a source of income, but he used to write poems, songs, stories as an amateur for his self-contentment. After years of struggle and his children settling down, the artist retired and felt an urge of dedicating his life on his thoughts in the form of writings. Starting with his first novel, which is based on the fiction of the real woman who is the backbone of the family and fights like a tigress despite social discrimination, he is looking forward to write more.

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© 2016 Mr Desh Bandhu Jadli. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/16/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5049-9634-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-9633-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-9635-8 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1 Childhood In Sheetaldhara

Chapter 2 My Victory

Chapter 3 Dilemma

Chapter 4 Tragedy In The Valley

Chapter 5 The Tidal Wave

Chapter 6 Sympathizer

Chapter 7 Madhav Got Kidnapped

Chapter 8 Stranger

Chapter 9 Sargent’s Last Bet

Chapter 10 Our Victory

Epilogue

Chapter 1

CHILDHOOD IN SHEETALDHARA

I am Ila, just Ila. Nothing more than that. My parents waited for almost thirteen years after marriage for a baby. Several omens were made, rituals were performed. Every single thing which could be done to please the Almighty was done. Lately, God answered and their prayers were heard. I came into this world. My parents felt blessed. My grandmother declared me as God’s wish and hence named me Ila.

Sometimes I feel that may be, my late mother was just alive to give birth to me. Poor lady got confined to her bed due to sickness as soon as I was born and after facing the torture of sickness for a year, quietly slept into deep slumber. Old grandmother, who was already taking care of me had now transformed into my mother. My mother’s very close friend Hansa, whom she considered as a sister, also loved me like my mother and never made me miss my mother’s lap. She lived quiet far away from our home but even after that, she used to visit at times and took complete care of my mother and me. My father was in the army, posted mostly at some far flung border of the nation. He visited once a year. The big ancestral house had fallen into ruins due to neglect.

Sheetaldhaara is a very beautiful and enchanting place situated at the footsteps of Himalayas. A place which has given this country maximum number of soldiers, martyrs and freedom fighters. Surrounded by the beautiful and brightly shining Himalayas at a distance. Silent trees of deodar standing still and paying tribute to the martyrs of this land. The winds blowing and tearing away the silence of the valley with its song, sometimes in its calm and romantic mood and sometimes with jazzy madness, talking and playing with the waterfalls who went on their path and formed the garlands of the brave ones. This beautiful valley of mine was not less than any other place of the world. It is my fortune that I was born and brought up in this mystic land. I am grateful to my valley. It’s not easy to describe all that I went through to reach there.

My mother had passed away when I was eighteen months old. It is my grandmother who taught me everything from crawling to standing and running. The old lady had to manage everything alone. From home to the farms and the society, everything always wanted a piece of her attention. Time had outpaced her and made her appear older than she actually was. In spite of her old age and weak body, she sacrificed whatever was left in her to bring me up and then one day without any hint she also left for her eternal journey leaving this world. I was all alone now. A small little girl, who knew nothing. Then Hansa aunty came up and took the responsibility of everything. She gave me the love of mother, father and grandmother. After some days, father also left his job and came back to the village. He had no other option anyway. As I slowly grew up, I met the sorrows and remorse of my life which I was not able to understand yet, as I was a child. I will never be able to forget Hansa aunty as she was the second lady who had played the role of my mother, after it was successfully played by my grandmother. Hansa aunty visited me less frequently since father had returned. She also had a family of her own. She had two sons along with extended family. Even then she used to spare some time for me. Now my father was my world. He tried everything to keep me happy. He played with me, talked with me, made me laugh, fed me with his own hands and got drowned in my sweet talks. He tried to forget the pain of my mother’s and grandmother’s death. Being a soldier he used to drink a little bit but now it had become a habit. He never thought about doing any work. Whatever savings were there, being depleted slowly with time and he also became quite numb. The home was functioning with the little money that came from farming and pension.

Sheetaldhaara was not only a very beautiful place, but also a centre of education. Some big and very good English medium schools were there since the time of British rule. Several new public schools had also opened in the region. Sheetaldhaara had started getting a lot of attention from the tourists during summers. With the arrival of the spring season large number of tourists turned towards Sheetaldhaara and the valley got flooded with colorful domestic and international tourists. Earlier there were very few hotels in the region, and local people made arrangements for tourists in their own houses. With the increasing number of visitor’s new hotels and rest houses also came up. People suggested to Father that he should take advantage of this trend as he already had a big ancestral house which was getting ruined slowly. So father evacuated the ground floor of our house for tourists. An added advantage was that our house was located in a more open area in front of the Himalayas. This attracted people a lot. It was always occupied from the start of the tourist season. Now father started earning well. He got me admitted to the best and most expensive school of the area. He took complete care of my education and everything. He wanted me to one day become an officer of good repute. I also liked to study very much. Many springs came and passed.

Life is a tidal wave. Its waves are never steady and there is always some turbulence. Sometimes these waves take away everything with them, and sometimes they also leave several things on the shore while retracing their steps. That time I was a student in high school. Our classes were conducted in the glittery sunlight in open during the winter. Preparations were going on in full swing for the annual sports day at school. Some boys of the senior classes were practicing football. Some of these boys were very mischievous. Somebody hit the ball so hard that it came and hit me directly at the temple. I fainted instantly because it pained terribly as a part of my ear was torn. It created a lot of panic and chaos among the students. All the children who were playing were startled and slowly disappeared from there. The Principal immediately summoned the accused student, but no one came up to own the mistake. Everybody was tensed. Principal was getting angrier. I was transported to the hospital in an unconscious state. The Principal was still hunting for the student who had willingly done this. Some time passed. Eventually the monitor of that group, who was also their coach, stepped forward and said sorry on behalf of all the boys with the intention of establishing truce. By then, principal had lost his temper and was so angry that, without listening to him, he just started thrashing him till he became totally tired. This incident was narrated later on to me in hospital by my friends when I gained consciousness. They also told me that the accused was a senior and a bright student of the school. He had stepped forward only to initiate a compromise. Actually he was innocent. You should also pardon him and throw out all the malicious thoughts from your mind. But who am I to blame anyone? I have accepted it as the pain of time, no matter who had done this. I was surely upset that an innocent boy was beaten for something he had not done.

One evening, I was sitting outside the hospital waiting for my father. A fair young boy came and stood in front of me. He had some flowers with him and was standing there, joining both his hands.

I am Madhav. I am a student of your school. I am here to say sorry to you.

I instantly got up. Sorry to me? For what?

For the pain you are going through, he said. There was extreme modesty in his words.

No, it was my bad luck. You are not responsible for it, I said.

No Ila. He called my name in a way that suggested as if he knew me since ages.

How are you now? It must be very painful, he observed.

No, I am fine now.

There was silence for a long time. Indeed, there was nothing to speak about. I felt as if he had absorbed all my pain in himself and now was not even able to express it. The pain could be easily read on his face. He appeared to be an emotional person. Just the way my friends had told me, undoubtedly. I was so impressed by him that I did not even have words to return and grace him back. Even then, I was searching for words to initiate communication. I was not able to do anything and was just confused.

You got insulted because of me. My friends had told me everything, I said.

It’s better to forget the past. We should think better for the future, He said.

This means that even though you were innocent, you still kept quiet and allowed them to assert that you had done it? I asked.

No one really knows who the real convict was. Maybe it was me, he replied.

No way. It can never be you, I said.

If I had done it, then you would also have punished me, he replied.

No, never. I asserted.

Why so? I asked.

One who repents for his mistakes is not considered a criminal anymore, I answered.

This means, you presume that it was me who had done it, he spoke.

No. I never meant that, I said.

Anyway, I pray to God that you may get well very soon. He again joined his hands.

Thank you very much for coming, I said.

Father had not come yet or I would have made him meet Madhav.

He instantly turned back and went away. I saw him going away silently. But he did not turn to look back.

Madhav went back, but every word he had said left an indelible mark in my mind. I met all my friends from school. I did not tell anyone about my meeting with Madhav. I saw him sometimes at school, but still my eyes were always searching for him. This way many months passed, and exams came closer. My father was very concerned about my studies as I was weak in mathematics. He wanted me to take up tuition in mathematics to improve in it. One