The cry of the black rose

6 34

Written by

No bio yet...

4 years ago

In community: Open For All(cc80)

At ten o'clock at night my mother came and told me that my marriage was broken because I look black!

I was supposed to get married on Friday, two days later. The boy runs a small business. He is a well-off family. The marriage was all settled. My parents were very happy because in the end my marriage was going to happen.

Earlier, eight or ten boys visited me. But no one liked me. This time when the boy's party said that they liked me, my parents were very happy.

Ripu came and said again and again- Apu Dulabhai is not very beautiful. But he will ask me to give him so many chocolates. Otherwise I will not let my Apu go to Dulabhai.

Dulabhai is not married yet! I stopped Ripu with a light rebuke. But if Ripu comes again and asks where is Apu Dulabhai. Why aren't you bringing chocolate for me?

What should I answer then? There will be nothing to answer because my marriage has broken down.

One of the boy's uncles was out of the country. He did not see me. But after coming to the country, he is bent over looking at my pictures. He can't accept the marriage of his nephew with such an ugly, black looking girl. He doesn't want a black wife to come in their family, a black child!

No one from the boy's side could go beyond his words. So the father was informed that they could not agree to this marriage. The father informed the mother. The father may have lost the courage to tell me directly. The father was happiest when the son agreed to the marriage. The face must have turned red with shame. You may have been under house arrest for a few days to cover your face from everyone in the neighborhood. My mother came and said everything in a sobbing voice. But I did not cry a single drop. I know I forgot to cry many years ago.

When I was only five years old, I went to visit my little aunt's house. All of us cousins were dressing up with a make-up box. One of the aunts who saw me dressing up was saying - this girl is as black as a crow. What will you do if you dress up?

I was very upset when I heard that. I started crying.

Aunty said - this girl does not cry. I was just kidding. Ha ha ha.

My crying stopped that day. Since then I have been pressing stones in my chest. I have learned to cry in my mind. No one could see my tears.

Once during Eid, there will be clothes for everyone in the house. Everyone was asked what color clothes they like. But no one asked me. My mother only said once from behind the door - don't ask if Deepa likes any color?

- What will he do if he likes the color? He will not be liked in any color. If there is only one, it will be.

Then it was their favorite color for everyone. For me it was brown color which I didn't like at all. But still I was happier than everyone else. I made the whole house drunk. I was showing the clothes to everyone. Do you like this color shirt?

- Why not, don't see if there is a beautiful book in the shirt. Tell me if it suits me? I asked in a cheerful voice.

My mother didn't answer. She just hid her face in the sari because no one wants to see her tears like me.

I was very happy when I was admitted to the school a few days later. But happiness in the foreheads of black people probably does not last long.

Everyone in the class would look at me with different eyes. They would avoid me when they mingled with everyone. They would laugh at me. They would say that I look like a foreigner. Laughter was my cry. Stone-crushed wailing laughter mixed with tears!

One day I came back from school and asked my father- Dad, am I disabled?

Dad was very surprised to hear me. He wanted to know the reason for such a question.

Why does everyone at school laugh at me? Why do they look at me with different eyes? Why doesn't anyone want to mix with me? Why do teachers even say to be sympathetic to me?

Am I different than everyone else? People become different only because of the color of the skin?

I cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried.

Dad began to comfort me.

I complained to my father why I was not made fair like the rest? Why?

My father was still comforting me. Ignoring my father's comfort, I started crying loudly. Dad kissed me on the forehead. At the same time it started raining with my father's eyes. Dad tried in vain to cover it with a handkerchief.

When the little uncle came from abroad, toys, chocolates and cream were brought for all the cousins.

Mother or who heard from you that there is a very good cream for whitening abroad. So he brought the cream with his father. After applying the cream for a week, there was no positive result. Instead, small spots appeared on his face. Then the mother threw the cream in the dustbin.

If there is any defect in the girls, the mothers have to be busy to fix it because the girls are a part of the mothers. If there is any defect in the daughter, it means that the mother also has that defect. But all of them failed. Every time after any settlement my mother would say- this time Allah will surely look up. But perhaps he did not have time to look at us in the midst of so many important tasks.

The most amazing thing is that love came in my life too. The boy named Abir who used to play the best football in the neighborhood liked that boy for some strange reason. Then I realize that love awakens in the minds of neglected girls like us. Colorful bumblebees called love want to paint them too.

Even more surprising is that I liked Abir too. Abir's favorite color was black. I gave him a black watch as a gift on Abir's birthday. Abir was very happy.

Exactly two days later, Abir said with a black rose - I love you Deepa. You have probably become a part of my life!

Then I thought I was the happiest person in the world. It seemed that I lived for thousands more years, enjoyed life. Life is very beautiful.

But less than three months later, Abir came and said that it was not possible for him to have this relationship.

During these three months, strange changes took place in my life. Every moment was joyful. I learned to smile, I learned to sing with the chirping of birds, I learned to live anew.

Girls like me have no right to exercise authority over anyone. I just looked Abir in the eye and asked- Abir do you really love a girl of neglected color like me? Is black your favorite color? Or is it a total lie, deception, temporary temptation?

Abir could not answer. He was just staring down.

Black is a favorite color of many people but no human being is a favorite of any black person.

Temporary pleasures like moss water took away from me forever.

The happy days of my two days were again filled with black clouds of sadness.

After school, college, after college, I set foot in varsity. Everyone at the varsity hated racists, but it was normal for them to feel annoyed when they saw me.

Many people used to ask jokingly- Apu, are you coming from Nigeria?

I would also answer 'no' pretending not to understand anything.

Then they would pretend to be very sorry and say - sorry, sorry. Don't mind.

But in my mind they would have been happy.

I understood everything but silently digested everything. I did not cry because I forgot to cry. My tears could not melt anyone's mind.

From the first day when the pot party came to see me, my mother explained to me that if you want to survive in the marriage market of a girl like me, you don't have to have only education. You also have to have other qualities.

Every time I saw my son's party, my father used to say, "My Deepa Mamani is not only good at studying, she can also do cooking, sewing and making useful utensils. The interest of the pot party would increase momentarily. As if to say. Dad used to talk about my different qualities again and again. But all my qualities would be accepted by my black face. Everyone is a worshiper of beauty. No one is a worshiper of virtue anymore.

At the time of departure, the pot party would say that they would make a decision after a while. The parents were anxiously waiting for that decision. Everyone is happy. There was a plan as to who would be invited, where the ceremony would be held, how to bring the big aunt to the wedding by breaking the anger.

Ripu made the whole house drunk. The only thing he said was that the whole house was decorated with red and blue lights. My father took the money from the bank for his hard work for many years.

A little while ago, when the father came and told that the bride and groom did not agree to the marriage, everyone seemed to be confused. The mother did not even go near the cupboard. The order to print the wedding invitation card was canceled. When you see that there is no red-blue light in the house, you must start crying.

Dad came to my room at eleven o'clock at night.

- I understand that my mother broke up the marriage. The boy is guilty of intoxication. Allah does what he does for the good. I will marry you to a better boy than this. But you are not upset at all.

The father's face has changed strangely. A living corpse, broken in thought, seemed to be standing in front of me.

- It's good that they didn't do it before the yellow ones. Otherwise a lot of money would have been wasted. I am happy that your hard earned money was not wasted.

My father thought that I would be hanged or poisoned because my marriage was broken. But my stupid father may not know that his neglected daughter with black skin has learned to endure everything. To me, death means only formality. Every day. I am dying in Tiletile - what is that or less.

- Well, Dad, why are you trying to drive me so far away? Can't I be with you for the rest of my life? I asked Dad.

- It is a joy for the parents to have a girl suitable for marriage at home. If I could, I would miss the target girl.

- Why can't you, Dad? I'm willing to be with you.

- When you become a mother, you will understand how difficult it is not to get married even if you have a suitable girl.

He grabbed his father's neck again. In front of his varsity daughter

Maybe Dad was ashamed to cry so he went to the next room.

||

After the marriage broke up, I thought my father would not be out of the house for at least a month. But my brave father conquered Chakshulajja and went out three days later in search of a new relationship with Ghatak.

They are sitting in the next room. My mother is arranging me very carefully. Despite my mother's hundred prohibitions, Ripu is repeatedly peeking in the next room. Maybe he is trying to understand whether people will deceive his sister like before. Baba is going to say all my virtues. I was presented in front of the pot party.

After seeing me, their smiling faces turned pale. Dad asked everyone to eat sweets to normalize the situation. But they did not touch any food.

Everyone else was in a hurry to leave. They got up before Baba could say anything. Baba said in a low voice, "At least finish the tea."

When everyone was gone, I began to think that I had seen the man who had come as a pot, but I could not remember.

Dad came to comfort me and cried. Dad's pressure increased. Mom was busy pouring water on Dad's head.

Ripu comes and says again and again- Apu, why did they leave? I will not be dulabhai? Won't you buy me chocolate?

I don't have the answer to Ripur's question. It is also unknown who has it.

At ten o'clock at night I am sitting on the porch. The south wind is blowing. Titu is sitting in the cage in front of him but he is not eating. For some reason maybe he is upset. Titu is my pet pyapakhi. Dad's pressure dropped a little earlier. But Dad is moaning and saying - Mom will marry you in a better place than this. Mom is forcibly pouring water on Dad's head. Ripu fell asleep crying for chocolate for a long time.

The sky is black with clouds just like me. In the gloom of the sky, I began to remember the man who had come as a potter, I had seen him give a lecture at a seminar on racism at varsity. I did not try to think of anything more.

I want to be with my parents for the rest of my life. But it will hurt my parents a lot. No parent in the world wants her daughter to be husbandless.

To be irresponsible or to escape the stigma of society, all parents want their daughter to get married.

I want to get married. Whether it is to save my parents from the stigma of society, whether it is for the privilege of reading my mother's jewelry or to see a smile on my father's face.

Titu's call interrupted my thoughts. He certainly does not want me to get married because he is not a partner like me.

Sir, @MarcDeMesel @TheRandomRewarder @Hanzell @Omar @Telesfor @ErdoganTalk @scottcbusiness @SofiaCBCH @BitcoinTippingPoint if you give me the inspiration, I will get the inspiration to write better.