The sarpanch (Village headman)

Gopi smiled through it all. Somewhere in the corner of his mind, he heard people laugh. He heard the band playing popular Bollywood numbers. He heard the swish of silk saris as women danced to the beat of the music. He stood in the seat of the car, his torso peeping out of the open rooftop. His hands folded together in a gesture of thank you. He smiled. And yet, he was elsewhere.

People were celebrating his victory in the Panchayat elections. He had won for the third consecutive time. For 10 years he had held the position of the Sarpanch (he headman of his village). And for 10 years he had carried the guilt.

Suddenly he realized that people were talking to him. The procession had reached his house. The only concrete 2 storyed house in the village. It was all that he had dreamed of. And yet. He forced himself to focus on the now. People were asking him to step out of the car. He noticed his wife waiting at their door with a tray that held a traditional lamp, a bowl of sandalwood and vermilion. She was smiling. Pretending, like him. A smile that never reached her eyes. A sadness that hung over her like a grey cloud.

He stepped out of his vehicle and the cacophony around him grew even louder. The band sounded horrific and loud, people’s cheer grated on his nerves. And yet he smiled. He waved and accepted their joy. He stood in front of his wife as she went through the motions of welcoming him and acknowledging his great victory. She applied a long vermilion line on his forehead to the loud cheers of all present and then he stepped into his home.

His son and daughter stood by to welcome him. His son hugged him. His daughter slinked behind her mother and refused to meet his eyes. She was the shy one. Not like her twin sister who was bold and bubbly and sprightly and ever curious.

The celebrations continued in his home. A feast was offered to all the Panchayat members and all the important people from nearby villages. It was late night when people left. His wife quietly instructed their servants who went about the task of cleaning their home of the mess left behind by people. She then slipped into her room and closed the door. His children too disappeared into their rooms. And at last, he was alone. He sighed and slunk into their plush sofa.

His gaze moved to the wall where the portrait of his beloved daughter hung. Her smiling six year old self captured for eternity. A photograph that painfully brought her to life. Bright eyes, confident body language, a full, open smile. She was his favourite child. He knew that was unfair to his other children. But he could not help himself. In her, he saw the fire he once had. She would have been a sprightly 16 year old had she been alive today. Questioning his actions, demanding answers and being an equal. Something that no one else in his home dared to do.

It was unfair that out of his three children, she had to go.

He remembered the day so vividly.

He had just had returned from the the municipal office. And he was very angry. They had once again rejected his plea to contest for the Gram Panchayat elections. Because of the damn two child rule! Anyone with more than two children could not contest the election.What could he do if he had a son first and then twin girls the second time around? It was not his fault. And yet he was rejected repeatedly. He had tried everything in his power. He had tried to forge the birth papers of his son and pass him off as his brother’s son. But the ploy had not worked. And the last date to file nominations for the next elections was just weeks away. It was his dream to become the village Sarpanch. He was desperate and out of ideas!

Even as he entered his courtyard, he saw his children return from school. He son, Ketan, went running inside and his daughters Ganga and Jamuna followed close behind. At the sight of Ganga, his anger dissipated.

“Baba you know what we learnt in school today?” She said, running up to him and jumping at him like a little monkey.

Laughing, he said, “What did you learn about my little monkey?”

“We learnt about me! About river Ganga!” She said, her whole body, vibrating with excitement. “Baba did you know that the whole Ganga river is just melted ice? Can you believe how much snow and ice must be up there in the mountains? I want to go and see the river Baba.” She played with his moustache as she spoke.

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed the other twin Yamuna trying to come closer. An idea formed in his head.

“Come here Yamuna. What say you, Ganga and me go on a bike ride to see the river in the next village?” He asked, looking hopefully at both his daughters.

“Yes yes yes!!” said Ganga as she hopped and pranced excitedly.

“I’m sc.. sc.. scared to ride in the bike Baba.” Jamuna stuttered timidly.

“Oh ho...nothing will happen. We will hold on to Baba real tight and we will be safe.” Ganga chided her sister.

 “Lets go right now Baba!” Ganga said pulling her father towards his bike.

“Your mother will kill me, if I take you girls out before you have your lunch. Go eat now, we will go later in the evening.” He laughed.

Jamuna scurried inside, while Ganga was reluctant to let go.

“Convince your sister to come. Let’s go in the evening. Now go eat.” He said, gently prodding her into their home.

There was village fair that day and his wife refused to let him take the girls elsewhere. She wanted to take them to the fair. Yamuna was happy to do her bidding, while Ganga sulked. In the evening, the girls got ready. And all the while, Ganga chatted non stop about rivers and how exciting it would be to see one and touch and feel the water. It was all she could think about.

Finally the girls were ready. While Ketan and Jamuna tropped out behind their mother enthusiastically, Ganga was reluctant to go. She snuck up to her father and whispered. “Shall we run off to see the river?”

“Let’s do one thing, you spend some time at the village fair, then you bring your sister and come, I will take you both to see the river.” He promised.

Satisfied with his answer, Ganga skipped off behind her mother.

And then things went completely wrong.

They found Ganga’s body the next morning.

When Ganga had gone missing from the fair, they feared the worst. They searched all night. And in the morning a search party found her floating in the river in the next village.

His wife was inconsolable. Jamuna retracted further into her shell, if such a thing was possible. It was as if Ganga had taken the life out of their home.

But in the end, because he now met the critera for the two child rule, Gopi could contest the Sarpanch elections. And he won.

He looked up now, once again at the portrait of his daughter.

“Why did you come back Ganga?” he asked the photograph even as his body shook with tears.

He remembered that moment so vividly. He had been drinking. And when Ganga ran back from the fair, alone, insisting that he take her to see the river right away. He did.

As she tood watching the gurgling waters of the river with fascination, his mind did the unthinkable. A flash of anger. A moment of desperation. He picked her up and threw her into the river. He saw the shock and surprise in her eyes. She struggled but the current was too strong for her. The river took her. He rode back home.

People thought it was an accident. Everyone was at the fair. No one saw him take her to the river.

And even today he was not sure if he had gained or lost from her death.