The Girl from Nowhere
I.
“…because
she’s a slut!”
I must
confess I had no interest in this conversation prior to the utterance of that
last word. I was just a passive subject to meaningless sound waves in a small
restaurant, miles away from Bodh Gaya. I cannot generalise my interests by
saying that everyone’s attention was riveted to the counter where the
discussion was taking place. I was the only customer in the restaurant. All I
can say as justification to my sudden interest is that you would’ve been
interested too.
The men at
the counter seemed to have noticed my intrusion by the sudden turn of head.
They lowered their voices and speeded up the fan. But the lack of power and
amount of interest such topics arouse could not keep the voices from reaching
my ear. With my back towards the counter and an air of relative ignorance, I kept
on eavesdropping.
A voice went
on in urgent whispers, “I’ve seen a man enter her lodge on nights when there is
no moon. I’ve seen him leave before daybreak. I’ve even seen her taking money
from him. He is one of hers’. Not ours. Though I wonder if anyone of us has
asked her price yet….”
This was
followed by a moment of silence and a sudden outburst of laughter.
“Kapis da!”
another voice mused, “What do you think? How much would you pay?”
“For the
pains our government goes through to sustain these foreigners? Not a piece!”
Supposedly, Kapis Da boomed. But soon being aware of my presence, he lowered
his voice again. “I say why can’t they just go back and face their problems? We
had our problems too! We faced them! We were victorious!” I could imagine
everyone nodding their heads in unison to his inspiring words. He peppered it with a verse,
sar
kata sakte hain lekin sar jhuka sakte nahin;
apni
azadi ko hum hargiz mita sakte nahin.
“Or maybe
she’s a witch!” another one intervened with his new theory. “Why else does she
live with us, completely isolated from her people who flock in majority at Bodh
Gaya? Maybe she was driven away from there! I've noticed how she goes on with
her strange ways. My wife says she practices some evil magic. She cursed a boy
once and he broke his leg twice!”
“I wonder
what difference any of this will make…” someone else spoke up, finally
injecting some sense into the conversation. “She is just a lady who lives in
our village. I don’t trust her, but I have no reasons to hate her either. Also,
she has a child to care for, as most of us do. We all know how difficult it is
to be a lonely parent! What harm is she doing us anyway?”
Interestingly,
I waited for the supporters (who seemed to support every statement blindly). I
was certain they would extend their support to him as well. But alas! It never
came. Instead one loud scoff rose and Kapis Da concluded the whole discussion,
“It seems you've taken a liking to our refugee. Finally someone can tell us how much she
costs!”
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Cont…
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