A witch's Story

2. Her Childhood

" My..ch-ch.. child. Where were you ?"
said an old women.
" How long i have searched you ? Where not! ", she added.

The girl in front of her did not responded. Her childish brain was unable to analyse the situation. For it was not easy to fade in the current situation from the opposite one. In which she was playing, singing and enjoying her life with her friends.

The girl was none other than Sanicha , who lately was given the title ' The Witch'.

She was a small girl born in a middle class family of mid 19th century India , to play her part on such a enormous platform of karma.

In the initial years of her, she was as much pretty as the other girls of that age were. A medium sized girl with wheatish skin tone, in a yellow frock - down crossed with thin red strips perpendicular to medium sized green strips - had her hair tied with pink band was completely like a doll.

She was the second youngest in her family , after 2 elder brothers, both married and had a little sister to carry and care off .

She herself was of 7 when she started acting as mother of her 4 yeared little sister. From home to ashram , where little children of village were allowed for getting scared and little formal knowledge like knowledge of letters, lessons of purans, upnisads etc...

There the process of learning and teaching was done under a tatched roof standing by the support of 6 bamboos, surrounded by the greenery, in the placid environment and fresh air. The guru would seat in the center and his disciple in rows, facing each other.

Apart from that she would do household works like baking chapaties , daubing the floors with muddy water and collecting fuel for cooking.

But in her daily routine what she really loved was playing and exploring her village.
After finishing her day job, in afternoon she was accompanied by her friends, all from her neighbour.

At that time she was free, free for what she want to, free from the responsibility of her sister and free from the control of her elders.

They together would wander through the whole village from one pole to another - though these two poles were not very apart .  -  except trough the colonies of high cast wealthies.
Playing, singing the local folk and grinding the roasted pulses, which they all bring and share.

In the way they would go through all  the physical and geographical features of their village and others nearby.
Through the shadow of great banyan and  through the coolness of handpump water.
Through the nerve awaking sourness of amba and through the hot mud of the barren field, droughted by the excessive warm love of the sun, which was transferred in the form of sunlight.

In evening, after such an exciting journey she would consume a handful rice with oil, salt and pickle (the most important item in any Indian village meal, whether is marriage ceremony or in any party.)

One day while coming from her 'guru ashram' with her friends and of course her little sister. playing, singing and revising the lessons their guru had taught.

" Sansar me  ,   hamare jiwan me. jo kuch bhi ghatnayen ghatit hoti hain, un sab ka koi-n-koi karan jaroor hota hai .
Bhale hi tumhe aaj n sahi kal pta chale. " All ridiculously mimicked the tone " Sanyam . jaruri hai ! "

" Achcha.... Kauno sansar me jiwat chahe marat bhi kauno karan la ??" her one friend asked laughing.
" Ha. guru ji to ehi kahle ho! ", another replied in a manner that she was the only intelligent among those.

As they had proceeded by the corner, suddenly an  old woman hit sanicha in a haste. She seemed to be in a hurry, somewhat running away from someone.

When they retrieve from that moment one of them asked in a caring attitude, " Thik h mai ? ".
While another peered through the lane and found two sepoys accompanied by 4-5 peoples having 'lathis' in their hand, running forward...

to be continued......
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