Ilaa

'I am sick of this!' she grunted loudly. 

 

Illa was the eldest daughter of Manu and Shraddha and she was the most precious pearl in the treasure of her parents’ children. She had been given an appropriate upbringing for a girl, pampered,well fed and beautified through the rigorous scrubbing of white milk and besan to grow up to a stunningly ravishing woman, with long, lustrous, ebony black hair and a dusky, wheatish complexion, with big, kohl lined eyes, sensual lips, firm legs and strong arms after the hard years of field work. Ilaa adored her parents and whenever they would bring up the subject of marriage and settlement, she would put up a face with denial etched on it and promise them that she would never leave their side.

Illa had turned twenty this year and innumerable marriage proposals had given birth to a ghost of uncertainty and despair which loomed over Illa, threatening to wreck havoc in her life. She did not hope for her life to be planned out the way her parents wanted it to be; she wanted to be different, a highlight in the crowd of other women of her village, by shaping her own destiny and future.  She would spend her nights gazing at the thatched ceiling and plan her escapades, far away from reality and the constant social pressure inflicted upon her.

Sitting on the banks of Godavari with the lines of frustration drawn over her face, she threw a pebble into the water which sunk with a disturbing ‘plop’ sound.  The family’s priority at the present moment was to acquire money by selling the bales of cotton but Illa’s parents seemed to have forgotten the meaning of priorities. A marriage proposal had come from Paithan a few weeks back and Ilaa’s parents didn’t even bother asking her opinion or informing her about the ‘rishta’ which was made over a letter ; a puny sheet which had Ilaa’s fate written in it. The reply had been immensely gracious and had come in five days later, which, in it’s honey coated words had approved of the alliance to be formed   between the two families. Ilaa’s parents were delighted and rushed to share the great news with her. But Illa didn’t react.

The shock inflicted by the sudden turn of events and betrayal on her parents’ part had left Illa numb. And when the pain had subsided, the harsh, cruel, hidden bruises of anger which she had so long suppressed, festered open. She smashed utensils, screamed at everyone in the neighbourhood, and had chopped off her long tresses to shoulder level length. Ilaa’s mother tried to make Illa understand that it was for her own good but the wrath of reality had maimed Illa.