Guldasta

Dear friends, I request you to restrain all your anger and sneer
Because a newborn child needs the help of those who are living.
Today I publish the confession of Sasmita, a village girl.

Sasmita, a village girl, was betrayed by Sukanta.
She did not let this anybody know.
Slowly the days went by to show early signs of conception.
And she tried to starve herself
So that the baby would die.
She took-up all the strenuous jobs
So that the baby would never pry-out alive.

Dear friends, I request you to restrain all your anger and sneer
Because who will be born needs the help of those who are alive.
Today I publish the confession of Sasmita, the village girl.

Slowly the days passed by, she was alone.
Her connection with the external world diminished.
A fear always troubled her
Might anybody guess anything.
And she began wearing a tight belt so that
No bulge could be noticed from above her saree.
One day out of sheer panic she drank some folidol.
But she was saved by neighbour’s timely  action.

Dear friends, I request do not cry or show compassion
Because who will be born needs the help of those who are living.
Today I publish the confession of Sasmita, the unwed mother.

Finally the appointed day came
Of all the fear, panic and hatred
She had grown an unwanted love
For the baby yet to be born.
She worked hard all day long
Cleansed all the floor, washed all the clothes
Finally at eight, in the evening
She was free to be at her home
Just had her back touched
The strings of her bed
That a shivering pain upped her brain
Becoming conscious and fearing neighbours should hear her groan
She choked her cry with a ball of cloth.

Dear friends, I request you not to cry or show compassion
Because who will be born needs the help of those who are living
Today I publish the confession of Sasmita, the unwed mother.

After all her initiations not to let the baby pry
She failed and by God’s grace it saw the darkness
Of that cloudy night, dark night when wind was blowing hard.
Lest anybody should respond to the baby’s first cry
She slowly came out of the house when the strong winds blew.
She supported her self to the cowshed
There among the cows and calves
On the grassy bed, the baby was born.
The wind blew high and low, none could hear the baby cry slow.

Dear friends I request you not to be happy or compromise
Because the newly born needs the help of those who are living
Today I publish the confession of Sasmita, the mother.

As cruel as she could be
Separating the baby from herself using the sickle
Lying on the floor, she brought the baby near her lips.
Touching its pink ones with her own, silently
She said, ‘you are mine’.
All of sudden the thoughts of love and care vanished
One of shame, sneer, contempt, anger cropped-up.
Soon she brought the baby near to her heart
And immediately the soft neck was between
Her demonic fingers
They closed  tight, until all the air blew out
The baby gave a long drawn cry, that
Vibrated up-down and in-out
But the wind was blowing high and low
None had any notion of it all

 Dear friends, I request you not to cry or show compassion
Because who was born, needed the love and care of those who are living
Today I publish the confession of Sasmita, the village girl,
the unwed mother and the mother as cruel as she can be.

Again bringing the lifeless new-born near to her heart
Giving it a long drawn kiss, she kept it on the floor and said
“You were mine”
Then she worked long with weakness, to make a small
grave for it, and laying down the baby
She covered it with more sand and earth
So that nobody would ever know about that darkness of night.

Dear friends, I request you to restrain all your sneer and anger
I request do not cry or show compassion
Do not be happy and be ready to compromise
Because the newly born needed the help of those who are living

Today I publish the confession of Sasmita the unwed-mother.
And with the burning sensation of anger, sneer, sadness and compassion
Ask you “why should the baby be known by his father,
When he is as irresponsible as he is.”

– by Vilombita Sarcar