Special Edition: Padmaja Iyengar-Paddy

Padmaja Iyengar-Paddy

Maya didn’t go …

 

As the embers rose from the Sigri (mud stove used in North India), Maya’s hands mechanically rolled out the Rotis. Her three-year old daughter was sleeping on a ragged mat on the floor some distance away from the Sigri and her one-year-old son in a makeshift cradle made of her old torn saree. Maya wondered from where their next meal was coming… She sensed a sinking feeling…no hope…no ray of light…

As the embers rose from the Sigri, Maya’s thoughts wandered to a day two months back…In a matter of minutes, the thugs who entered their broken hut, hacked her husband…dragged her away to the nearby fields and took turns to ravage her as she kept wailing and pleading - she didn’t know whether it was for her dead husband or due to the ordeal and pain that these thugs were inflicting upon her. She heard them say that she had to pay for the boy from her (low caste) community who eloped with an upper caste girl!!! Maya was let off when the men had more than enough of her.  She covered herself with her rags lying around and rushed to her hut…The body of her husband lay there. Her children were crying…not for their dead father but due to hunger. They were too young to understand what had happened ...

As the embers rose from the Sigri, Maya relived those hours at the police station…the humiliation the policemen subjected her to… questioning her…who were “those” men…why did “they” kill her husband…did she also have a hand in his killing…whether she regularly “serviced” those men…??? And those hours at the hospital… frequent medical tests… probing fingers again and again… Investigations, repeated interrogation, humiliation, questions, questions and questions, for most of which she had no answer… That look of disbelief and shock in the eyes of the lady doctor who examined her …and yet a knowing look as she patted Maya’s back in sympathy and helplessness….  AND then, the salivating looks of the policemen, their leers and jeers that seemed to undress her all over again and violate her mercilessly… Her children hungry, restless and crying all the time… irritating the policemen…irritating the hospital staff…irritating everyone around…wailing all the time…her hungry kids…

As the embers rose from the Sigri, Maya thought of the visit of “those” men again to her dilapidated hut and threatening her with another round of “the same treatment” if she doesn’t withdraw her complaint from the police station …She was confused…didn’t know what to do. Her village folks were indifferent…as caste wars often took a toll of the women in their village…No one went to the police…but Maya had dared…So, she had to face the consequences… No one was willing to help her. All were scared of “those” men – upper caste, ruthless and powerful, and the police. In a few days, Maya stopped getting the odd work that gave her wailing children and her something to eat and survive …

As the embers rose from the Sigri, Maya thought of that kind city lady with a mike in her hand who visited her hut and asked her many questions. She answered some, couldn’t answer the others out of fear and shame. While leaving, the kind lady gave Maya some money and a card with her address, taking pity on her pathetic condition. The money kept her going for some time. Then, “those” men came visiting her again for a final threat that she should be ready anytime for another round of … if she doesn’t withdraw her complaint. Maya’s inner turmoil was killing her. What should she do? She heard from people that the government had schemes for helping destitute widows, free education of children, housing etc., but she didn’t know how to access those schemes. Going anywhere cost money that she did not have. How much and how long could she trek with a child in her arms and another in tow, both wailing most times? How long could she manage like this…? So many questions with no answers. The life ahead…there seemed no hope. And “those” men and their non-stop threats…The leers and jeers of the policemen when she went to the police station to know the status of her complaint. Often, she’d find “those” men sitting with the policemen having chai (tea) and cracking lewd jokes about their “time” with her.   Can she get justice for her husband’s cold-blooded murder, and for the severe physical torture she’d been subjected to by “those” men and the mental trauma that she’s going through?  She felt shattered …

As the embers rose from the Sigri, Maya felt her thoughts and emotions too soaring. Should she take up the offer made by that kind TV lady to work as a full-time maid in her house, that she’ll be given a monthly salary, a room and also, the education of her children will be taken care of? Should she heed the words of the village elder informing her that there was going to be an enquiry commission later in the day to investigate the crimes against her, her husband’s murder and the action taken by the police?  He advised her to “keep quiet” as her speaking out would tarnish the name of the village.  “Those boys” were from the rich upper caste and their writ ran large across the village, district and the State.  The village elder promised her a job with a regular salary if she withdrew her complaint. What should she do? Maya was totally confused, as her hands managed to roll the rotis and also cook a small quantity of weak, watery daal for her children.

As the embers from the Sigri were put out by her, she rose with a resolve. She fed her children, packed a few belongings in a bag and stepped out of her hut. Maya didn’t go to face the “enquiry commission”. Instead, she started walking towards the village bus stand to take a bus to Lucknow.

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Bio: Padmaja Iyengar-Paddy, a senior ex-banker and a former urban governance consultant, has two poetry collections to her credit, “P-EN-CHANTS” and “P-EN-CHANTS…Again” recognized by the India Book of Records for never-before-attempted movie reviews and management subjects in rhyming poetry. Paddy has edited 6 international multilingual poetry anthologies and 4 English poetry anthologies, of which “AMARAVATI POETIC PRISM” 2016 to 2019 have been recognized by the Limca Book of Records as “Poetry Anthology in Most Languages”. Paddy is a recipient of several honours and awards notably an Honorary Doctor of Literature (Litt.D.) conferred upon her at the 43^rd World Congress of Poets-2024.

 

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Setu, June 2025