Kina?

“Buwa I am not feeling too well. Is it okay if I skip the household chores today?” 13 year old Radha looked at her father with pleading eyes.

Prasad looked at his daughter and noticed that she did indeed look a bit unwell. Her pale droopy eyes, shaking limbs and erratic breathing gave it off. However, he did not think of it as that much of a big issue. “What will you do? Sleep all day? Can’t you just drink some hot water and start working? If you do not do the chores, who will? I am not keeping you at home for nothing, Radha. I would have sent you to school otherwise. And anyways, you do have to practice all this. How will you survive at your husband’s house after you get married?”

The zillions of questions thrown by her father was making Radha more nauseous than her burning fever was. Radha was getting dizzy and she knew that it was not because of the fever anymore.

Radha was only seven years of age when her mother had died from bronchitis. She was left with her elder brother and her father but she always felt as if she were alone. From the kitchen’s window, while stirring the raw cabbages in the frying pan, she used to peep at her brother going to school with his backpack filled with books. From the room, while sweeping all the dust, coughing and wheezing, she used to look outside and see how her brother was always playing around with his friends. Radha had never really understood why she was treated differently than her brother. She thought she was supposed to get more love, being the younger child. Oh how wrong she was!

“Radha stop questioning me so much. Why are you pressurizing your brain so much? You just focus on feeding us and keeping the house clean okay? You are soon going to get married anyway.” This is what Radha was used to hearing. Seeing her father dismiss her questions so easily, at one point, she stopped questioning.

Radha was washing the dishes, her hands were tired and her legs were giving out. Her brother was still not home and her father was lounging on his bed, reading newspapers. She took a deep breath, stretched out her body, a few joints popping loudly and stared at the dirty dishes that were still so dirty no matter how many times she tried to scrub off the maasu ko tel.

*Clang* the frying pan fell from Radha’s hand and landed on the floor. The sound reverberated through the house. She had heard such a loud scream from her neighborhood that had caught her off guard and hence the pan fell from her hands. Radha hurriedly ran outside to see what the chaos was all about. As she was running, she saw a group of people making a circle and watching something. She wanted to see what they were looking so intently at. She pushed at all the people, huffing and struggling, she pushed some more and stumbled to the centre. What she saw there was something that she would now never forget for the rest of her life. Two women were beating Sarita auntie with whatever they could get on their hand; shoes, stones and rocks, brooms. Sarita auntie was crying in agony and writhing in pain. She was begging those women to stop and yet they did not stop. She kept begging and they kept going. She begged more and they beat her more. She begged some more and they beat her some more.

Radha was astounded. Sarita auntie was her neighbor and yet everyone was watching her get beat up. They had no form of pity or sympathy written on their face. In fact, some were even encouraging the two women to beat her some more. Not being able to hold it in anymore, Radha asked, “Why are they beating her and why the hell is everyone watching instead of stopping them?” Radha looked around asking for answers. “Why are you here Radha? Go home and work. That woman is a witch. बोक्सी हो बोक्सी. She did some black magic and cast a spell on her husband and now he is sick. Stay away from women like this, or you will also become a witch. And no one will spare you Radha. Go home.”

Radha had started to question the existence of humanity. She was left speechless. She could not even begin to think how being a human, humans themselves could beat up people based on nonsensical assumptions and superstitions. That day, her Sarita auntie had died and what could she do? Nothing. She began to question everything. She did not understand why and how people thought that just because Sarita auntie’s husband was sick, she suddenly was a witch. She did not understand why men and women were treated so differently. She did not know why she was forced to stay at home when her brother was allowed to do whatever he wanted to. She did not know why she had to sweat herself out in the kitchen all day when all her brother had to do was eat and sleep. She did not know how people could sit and watch people getting beat up and killed as if it were a soap opera. She did not know where humanity was and she did not know why nobody ever quenched her thirst of curiosity. She was starting to feel as if she never really knew anything. Maybe it was the society that she was living in or maybe it was just her. Maybe she just was not meant to be born in a society where women are randomly accused of being witches, daughters are forced to stay home and suppress their desires and humans are not humans.

साधारण मानिस लै बोक्सी को आरोप लगाएर मार्न सक्ने र मरेको हेरेर बस्न सक्ने मानिस हरु लै पो बोक्सी भन्छ हैन र?