Two Birthdays

Fatima was the first to notice. Usually the days started a bit late in these quarters. But even in their standards it was not normal. It was ten on clock. Saraswati had not opened her door.

“May be she was late in getting to bed yesterday night,” Fatima said to herself. She didn’t have enough time to think about it. She was rushing to the bathroom. It was shared by thirteen girls. And it was normally a long wait outside the bathroom in these hours.

It was when she came out after forty minutes that she felt that something was wrong. Saraswati was still in her room. Fatima went to the door.

“Saraswati.”

There was no answer. She called again, this time louder with a knock on the door. There was still no answer.

“Maybe she is ill,” Fatima thought.

“Chitra. Chitra,” she shouted at the top of her voice.

“What’s the matter? Why are you making such a fuss?”

Chitra as always was on her highest pitch. She came out of the next room and immediately noticed the panic on the face of Fatima.

“What’s wrong?”

“Saraswati is not replying. She has not come out this morning.”

Chitra went forward and called Saraswati.. There was still no reply, not even the groans of someone sick. She put her ear on the door.

“There is no sound inside. Call Mausi and Khaled Bhai.

* * * * *

It was past afternoon before the police took the body away. Saraswati had hung herself from the ceiling fan with a dupatta. The police questioned all the residents of the quarters but could find no clue behind the suicide.

Fatima couldn’t believe that Saraswati was not there. Saraswati had been like an elder sister from her first day in this hell. Saraswati was perfectly okay yesterday evening. What could have happened through the night that she committed suicide? Was the boy responsible? But he didn’t look like he could be harmful. Only Allah can tell.

* * * * *

The evening was just as the day before or any other day in the quarters. There was not even a sign of the day’s events. Fatima and the other girls didn’t even have the right to mourn. They had to be back to business, right on time. Mausi and Khaled Bhai were always there to make sure they did not mourn and waste an evening’s income.

Fatima dressed and went to the street.

It was not long before a boy approached her.

* * * * *

The day had started as any other day. But for Saraswati it was not like the other three hundred and sixty four days of the year. It was her birthday.

But it didn’t change her daily routine. She woke up late and went to the bathroom which she shared with twelve other girls. She had to wait outside the bathroom just as usual. She got her chance after half an hour. She went in.

She hated this day. She had hated her birthday throughout these last twelve years. Anyone would. And she knew she would hate the day even in hell; heaven was not for her.

She started laughing as she washed her body.

“Is there any water on earth that can wash the filth from my body?” She knew that there was not. Still she had to bathe everyday.

Not only did she hate her birthday because this day always brought back the memories of her early life, her Ma, her Baba and her little Bhai; but also because it was on this day twelve years ago that her present life started.

She would never forget that day. Her nightmares wouldn’t let her; her daily ordeal wouldn’t let her.

* * * * *

It was her twelfth birthday. But she didn’t look like a twelve year old. Spring had come to her earlier than her friends and she looked a year or two older than her playmates.

It was not customary in their small village to celebrate birthdays. Birthdays were as normal as any day. But just a month back Saraswati had visited her cousins who lived in the city. There she realized for the first time that birthdays were somehow special.

A few days before her birthday she asked her father, “Baba, what will you give me on my birthday?”

“Well, what do you want my dear?” asked Ramanath Biswas.

“May I go to the fair in the next village Baba?”

“But I will be busy on that day. I will go to the city”

“I can take her”, said Raju who had just entered their courtyard.

Ramanath never liked this person. Somehow he felt that Raju’s frequent visits to their house were because of Saraswati. The only reason why he tolerated Raju was because he was the son of the Panchayat of Lakhipur, their village.

“No. You cannot. Saraswati, go help your Ma and ask her to send my umbrella with Ganesh.”

Saraswati was subdued. She never understood Baba’s attitude towards Raju Dada. He was a good man. He had once told her that he would take her to the cinema in the city. Now he offered to take her to the fair. But Baba as always became the spoilsport. She hated Baba for this. But she couldn’t disobey him.

“Bhai take the umbrella and give it to Baba,” Saraswati ordered Ganesh, her younger brother.

Ganesh was ten years younger than Saraswati. She loved her brother very much but sometimes felt jealous towards him. She had seen that recently Ganesh was allowed to do many things which she was not allowed to do. It was not even a year back. When she complained to Ma about this, she said, “You are growing up dear, you need to understand that.”

Was growing up a crime? In that case she would never grow up.

* * * * *

“Happy Birthday, Saraswati,” said Raju from the distance.

Saraswati didn’t know how to respond. She simply smiled.

“So how are you planning to celebrate your day?” asked Raju with the hint of a meaningful smile.

“I don’t know. Baba said he would bring me a gift from the city.”

“But that will be late in the night. What about the rest of the day? Do you want to spoil your birthday in this wretched village?”

“What else can I do?”

“You can come with me. We can go to the city. I will take you to the cinema.”

She wanted to go with Raju. But she could not gather the courage. “It is not possible. Baba will know. He will be furious.”

“Nobody will know. We will return before the sun sets. You just don’t tell anybody that you are coming with me. Tell your mother that you are visiting Gauri.”

The proposal made perfect sense. Nobody would know where she was going and with whom. She could see the cinema. What was the harm in watching the cinema? They would return long before Baba.

* * * * *

Nobody knew where she went and with whom and in this way she ended up here. It was the first birthday in her life when she wanted to have a gift and this was what she got as her birthday present: a source of income.

Suddenly she woke from the trance. It was about time and she dressed herself. She used some cheap cosmetics and an even cheaper perfume and went to the street.

There was no reason why but the street was not as busy as the other days. And there were fewer customers. Nobody seemed to notice her.

She knew she was getting older. The twelve years of ordeal had changed her a lot. She looked much older than her age. There was a permanent fatigue in her eyes. Nowadays only those who had virtually an empty pocket came to her. And she had to stand longer in the street.

The wait seemed to be even longer than the other days. It was getting late and she felt that perhaps it was better this way. No customer for a day was a welcome change.

When she was about to return, a young boy just passed his teens came to her. He didn’t know what to say.

Saraswati at once knew that it was his first time, his first step in the filth.

She took the boy to her room and closed the door.

Nervousness clearly showed on the boy’s face. Saraswati sat on the bed and motioned the boy to do the same. She started opening her clothes but the boy looked away from her.

On any other day, she would have severely abused the boy. But today was different.

“What is your name?” asked Saraswati and moved towards the boy.

“Wh-why do you want to know?” there was clear nervousness in his voice. He was feeling awkward and hesitant.

“You have every right not to tell a whore your name. I just felt like asking.”

“How do you know that even if I tell you, I will tell the truth?”

“If you wanted to lie you wouldn’t have asked this question.”

The boy kept quiet for sometime as if he was deciding if he wanted to tell.

“My name is Ganesh.”

Distant memories of her brother came back to Saraswati at once. But her brother was so far away even from her memories that she couldn’t remember how he looked like. This boy is her brother’s namesake. How old is Ganesh now? Does he remember her Didi?

She returned to the present suddenly. The boy had moved towards her.

“Where are you from?” asked Saraswati.

“Why is this whore asking me these things? I don’t care if she knows all my family details,” thought the boy.

“I am from the village of Lakhipur. My father is the Panchayet there,” there was clear arrogance in his voice. His nervousness was gone and he was readying himself.

“Lakhipur? Near Nababganj?” she was feeling sick. The boy touched her.

“Yes. How do you know? Have you been there?” the boy was surprised.

Saraswati felt the whole world turning upside down.

“What is the name of your father?” she screamed.

“You bloody whore. Why do you want to know? Keep your mouth shut.”

“What is your father’s name?” she asked again.

There was decisiveness in her voice the boy could not ignore.

“Ramanath Biswas. Now keep your mouth shut and come closer, will you?”

* * * * *

When Saraswati woke up she couldn’t tell what time of night it was. The boy had left.

“He is my brother. Oh God what have you done to me? He is my brother. Why did it happen? Why?” she was sobbing.

Suddenly she went to the rope on the wall which she used to hang her clothes and took a dupatta.

* * * * *