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GUDIYAA ( DOLL )

Part 1


Preface :

In India, irrespective of caste, creed, religion, social and economic status many parents lovingly call their daughters as “Gudiyaa” which literally means “Doll”.

The story :

Sharda alias Gudiyaa was an extremely beautiful thirteen year old daughter of Vilas and Kunda. The family of six hailed from Sonegarh, a remote village in Maharashtra, India.

Farming, the sole occupation of the villagers suffered at the hands of Mother Nature, who refused to bless their land with rain. As expected, the gullible and illiterate villagers got entangled in a web of inescapable debt trap. Most of them lost their land to the ruthless money lenders. Vilas was one of them.

Poverty and destitution drove him and his family to Bombay, the city of dreams; the bastion of the rich and the famous. The strenuous ride from the village to the city took its toll. Santosh, the youngest member of the family died on the way due to malnutrition and fatigue. Vilas did not realize that their nightmare had just begun. He was unaware of the fact that Bombay, with all its wealth, did not guarantee prosperity. The city had a reputation of being cruel, indifferent and selfish. Bombay had no time for emotions.

The fight for survival began. Vilas failed to find any permanent work. He was just a simple farmer with no technical or marketing skills. There were many factories, workshops and showrooms in his area but the owners were put off by the fact that he was new and without any permanent address. Prohibitive registration fee demanded by various unions stopped him from working as a manual laborer.

Even Kunda was unsuccessful in finding a decent job. Finally, out of frustration she accepted the job of a maid. It was fashionable with the rich to hire maids; to clean their utensils, mop floors and cook food. The income from doing odd jobs was meager. Kunda found it difficult to manage her finances. The family’s woes increased when the local goons started harassing them for "Hafta", a fee charged by the mafia to live on the pavements of Bombay.

Weeks passed. Kunda continued to work in short stints as a maid in various homes. On the other hand the once sedate Vilas became an alcoholic, a wife beater and a loser. The small hut that they built around a water pipeline, close to the road became his permanent abode. Drunk and oblivious to the outside world his life changed completely. The spirit to find a job and support his family evaporated in the heat of continuous failures. In a matter of weeks Vilas‘s life turned into a never ending nightmare.

Kunda watched his slow deterioration. She had no control over him. She knew she had lost him forever. His frequent outbursts and continuous demands for sex scared her. He had no other source of entertainment. She started avoiding his advances. The thought of leaving Gudiyaa with her drunken and sex starved husband worried Kunda. She did not want to take any chances. Vilas was a father but she did not trust him when he was in an inebriated state.

God forbid if something really happened, she thought.

She asked Gudiyaa to accompany her every morning.

But destiny’s atrocities did not stop. Kunda’s misery multiplied; her Gudiyaa was growing up fast. It was a custom in their village to get the girls married at a young age. The thought troubled her. It was at this point of time Kunda’s Madam suggested that Gudiyaa should also work to supplement Kunda’s scanty income.

“Kunda, I think Gudiyaa should start working and help you financially. One of my friends, Mrs. Singh wants a full-time maid. She needs a young girl to look after her household chores. You can take Gudiyaa to her place. The payment will be good.”

“Yes, I need to save some money for her dowry,” Kunda replied happily.

Kunda immediately visited Mrs. Singh’s house. She was impressed by their talk and their lifestyle. She left Gudiyaa with the young couple, thinking her daughter would be safe and at the same time earn some money.

###

Weeks passed. Kunda missed Gudiyaa. She decided to visit her daughter. But the moment Gudiyaa opened the door she knew something was horribly wrong with her. Her eyes welled when she saw her. She held her in her arms. The once chirpy Gudiyaa had turned into a living zombie. She found her weak and frightened.

Kunda confronted the couple. “What have you done to my daughter? She looks scared and weak.”

“Your daughter is lazy and a thief,” replied Mrs. Singh.

“No, that is not true. My daughter is not a thief.”

"Yes, she is. She only knows to eat and while away the time. Thank your stars that we did not call the police," the couple continued with their barrage of abuses.

Hurt, angry and unable to fight with the high society people, Kunda brought her back. Next morning when Gudiyaa was bathing in a small make-shift semi open bathroom, Kunda noticed dark spots on her back and legs.

They were burn marks.

“Gudiyaa, what happened? These are burn marks. Who did this?”

Once again Gudiyaa just looked at her. She did not respond to her doubts.

“I asked you something. Who did this?” Kunda repeated her question, her voice quivering.

It had no effect on Gudiyaa. She was oblivious to her mother‘s anxiety. Her silence worried Kunda. She was scared and furious but could not discuss her problem with anyone, not even with her husband.


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