As I was well-read in Hindi, English and other subjects (although, by myself), the little angel"s mother told me about the lady under whom she worked as a maid. She said that the lady was a gold mine of kindness, especially towards the poor yet capable people like me.Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click for visiting.
She literally was a gold mine. Her face glowed immensely. She became my inspiration when she told me her own story of rising above all odds by herself. She belonged to a Dalit community and thus has to cover much more vulgar and hopeless journey. Being a Dalit woman, who have gone through child abuse, ****, widowhood, and discrimination daily-- she influenced me ma.s.sively. The thing which I admired the most was her view of the world. She was a lady with a capability to bring peace on Planet Earth. But that can"t be done alone probably.
As soon as she heard my story, she was encouraged enough to spend on my education. She wanted to make me better than who was I at that time; not as an educated girl, but as a human being who has awareness about everything. She wanted to make me capable enough to live freely, without depending upon anyone. For the next six months, I spent my time learning, both theoretically and practically. I made myself skilled in writing, keeping my speech raw and bold. My very first story was a short story, which made the "Goldsmith" comment, "Creative, simple, different---ah! A fresh voice! World"s waiting for you, my girl! Keep improving!"
I gave her a pseudonym, "Goldsmith" as I never had enough guts to ask her name, although, I really wanted to. Nonetheless, I became totally involved with her in her regular activities. I used to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for her. I also started to help her children in their homework by the end of January 2018. She had twin daughters-- Niharika and Mehar. They both were in sixth. With a tongue filled with sugar pebbles, they both were very naughty yet with brains of a computer and heart of their mother. I became their governess later, after my delivery.
I never met that angel, who made me meet her mother. Probably, she went back in heavens, after guiding me out of the ocean. Her mother told me once that her daughter was not her own, but of her sister. Angel"s mother was a kind woman. I met her daily as she was a respected maid of the house. Her mother"s name was Sheela too as of my biological mother. Sheela aunty was the one who in the absence of the goldsmith took me to the hospital. As soon as a life peaked out of my womb, she took him in her hands. When I opened my eyes, she swirled into thin air. I sat down and smiled. The nurse handed me, my baby.
Next morning the goldsmith entered with her cheeks covered with waters. She took the baby in her hands and looked at me. She told me that now I have become ready for facing the world. From April 2018, I became the governess. Simultaneously, I started searching for houses. I had to shift by the end of the year. I also started scribbling a lot. I used to write poems, songs, shayri, proses, thoughts, stories of all kinds, and I tried writing, whatever I can out my interest and brain on; any genre, form, style, etc. I reached that point in my life already, where I started decoding my past.
My baby remained nameless till now. I never wanted to tell myself or the breathing life in my hands about that I made you. I wanted to make this baby into a capable individual, like the goldsmith made me. I started building up my contacts through online sources. Within a year, I had a clear understanding of my past and present. I also started to envision my future.
Although I called my baby peace, the kid was a disaster at nights. In the mornings, she made me happy, as she used to sleep all morning. I took tuitions in the evening of all cla.s.ses. At nights I told my baby all kinds of stories, except the patriarchal nursery rhymes or tales. I told her the stories which would make her a being of strength, ethics, and grounded. I tried to instill in her compa.s.sion, courage, and spirit of never giving up. One night, I wrote a letter to her. It happened while I was scribbling down my thoughts in the diary.
I remained weak in my knowledge about the place where I live, which was the biggest hurdle in my progress towards becoming a capable, free, independent being. During the mid of 2018, I made up my mind to travel a certain number of places each day. Consequently, I started to struggle a lot, which was mostly deliberately. I used to carry my baby with me everywhere I go. I discovered a number of places, met a number of strangers, and also received a number of job opportunities. I used to meet my goldsmith every month and discussed everything that I saw, observed, and wrote with her.
I was enjoying my life immensely, until one day, I was. .h.i.t by a bus on an empty road. My past haunted me as soon as my vision became blunt. I heard the gunfire in my head. My baby said goodbye to me as I laid down there, absorbed by the river flowing on the path towards heaven. I saw my baby swimming; I smiled.
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