Geeta's husband

Little did Ravi know that Geeta's time was running out...

Geeta was nine years old when they married her to a man who they said would provide for her the rest of her life.

No, he was not an abuser. He was from a respectable family, respectable himself, with a good job, a good character as endorsed by many, and he was gentle with her the first time she talked to him.

Wait, she forgot to mention that he was twenty nine. Years old. And they were in the year 1920.

It was one fine morning in her eventless life that she was told she was going to get married.

Geeta just knew marriage as the reason why newlyweds blushed without reason.

So she was told to get ready, and was bedecked in a beautiful saree, and allowed to wear the earrings left to her by her dead mother.

Her newlywed sister-in-law giggled and pushed her saying, "Soon now, you'll know why we blush like that when our husbands come home."

She did not tell her anything, but she was nervous but also wanted to snort with derision.

Geeta's parents were poor. And she was taken care of by her maternal uncle. He had found what he said was a "good match" for her.

She wanted to get to know her future husband, but they said she would have enough time to do that later, for now just get married, and make your family proud by being good mannered with your husband's family.

There was no talk of love. Just talk about expectations.

You must get up by 4:00 a.m., she was told. By seven, you must have done all the chores like cooking, cleaning and washing clothes and washing oneself.

The rest of the day you must bring water from the lake, help your mother-in-law and continue your studies.

That was the condition placed by her husband to be married to her. That she had to continue her studies. And later on if she wanted to become someone, she could, by her own choice.

When her husband returned at 9:00 p.m., she would fan him as he ate whatever she had cooked for him - and this was supposed to be a luxurious dinner tendered with care.

When the day of her marriage came, and all the necessary rituals were done, she felt more tired than shy.

Which was why the first night with him, she simply slept. They did not get to talk.

The following days, he would converse to her about what was going on in his office. She would listen attentively.

When a man who was his colleague had a fight with her husband regarding something of work, and he was tensed because he needed the man's approval for preserving good-books of his boss and for a promotion, Geeta stepped in. She made a delicious dinner and herself went to his workplace and asked both of them to eat. The man, subdued, said, "Boudi, you shouldn't have..."

Geeta simply smiled and said, "We are together in this country - who will help each other if not for each of us? The bootlickers of the foreigners are deplorable. Why should we fight while the foreigners only sit back and enjoy the tamasha?"

They parted ways amicably.

Ravi was overjoyed with the way Geeta had handled the situation.

That one incident made them closer, and turned them into the best of friends.

But yes, it was not till Geeta was eighteen years old when she got to know why newlyweds blushed. She had asked Ravi before, to which he had treated her query with a guffaw. Then he had placed his hand on her head, as if blessing her, and said, "You don’t need to know it now, my dear wife. For now, study and live your childhood to the fullest."

It was when she was eighteen years old that she was expecting a baby. The day of her child's birth brought an unexpected incident.

A freedom fighter who was on the run, his temple bleeding, asked for shelter.

Ravi was about to say no, but the newly turned mother in Geeta made him say yes.

Yes to giving him shelter.

That night, everyone in the home was on the tips of their toes. The day passed, and when the night came, he was joined with some of the fellow freedom fighters. The man blessed them and said "Vande Mataram" as he went away.

"I will not allow my son to live in a country where we turn each other out at times of need," Geeta had said to Ravi.

Ravi was proud of her. Ravi had enlisted in the Brahma Samaj, like many youths of that time.

Geeta and Ravi also helped each other spiritually. They would have many philosophical discussions, and enlighten each other with their thoughts regarding God.

Then one day, when Ravi and Geeta's son was eight years old, Geeta died in an accident.

Ravi was hurt beyond measure. Little had he known that Geeta's time was running out.

On the day of her Sraddha he found a note. A highly commendable note written by Geeta when she was still married, but in her early years.

"I don’t want a husband who puts me first.

I want someone who puts God first.

I don’t want him to put his faith in me.

I want him to put all his faith in God and put his faith inspite of me in me because he believes whatever will come will come, but that God would support us and turn things to normal despite the circumstances.

I need him to elevate himself And me day by day through prayer and meditation and faith put in God. To realize that we can perhaps move toward achieving the goal of life together, at least in this life.

I am not saying I don't want his love. I just don't want him to say things like "I would die for you" Or "I love you the most in the world". I want him to say instead, "I trust in God to put us through adverse situations but I also trust God to get us out of them, together."

When either of us die, we should love each other enough and simply pray for the other's soul to get peace. For the mind of the living to get peace, as well.

I want to love my husband, yes. But I want God's approval and be tenacious, faithful and think about the long-term in marriage.

Thank you."

Ravi stopped crying.

He remembered the many times she would stand by him, in health as well sickness. How brave she was. How mature beyond her years.

And he prayed.

Ten years later, when the pain was less, his mother told him she was proud of him, but even so, Geeta would have been prouder still.

Their son would grow in a free country. With the right instructions to live a life. Ashutosh did not remember his mother too well. But his father raised him well enough for two parents. He was seldom allowed to feel the loss of his mother.

As for Ravi, not a day went by that he didn't miss her. But her letter calmed him.

One day, at eight seven years old, Ravi would pass away, while in sleep. But he would leave behind a history of culture and happiness.