Illa, a village girl in 14th Century India, rebels against the strict customs and rituals of her tribe.
“There must be more to life than this” Ilaa thought to herself as she sat cross legged on a grassy knoll by the banks of the mighty Godavari River. She was vaguely aware that sitting cross legged wasn’t a very lady like pose, but she didn’t care. She was honest enough to realise that was part of the problem. She didn’t care about anything much these days; and often felt an inexplicable and overwhelming conviction to defy, or at least ignore, the conventions of the day. She knew of course that her family, while not jagirdars (village headmen), were affluent and influential enough to be regarded with deference by the inhabitants of Sauviragram, her village located not far from Paithan, the mighty capital of the kingdom. Her father was a wealthy grain trader after all. She was expected to behave with decorum and even a degree of haughtiness towards the less privileged.
Ilaa wondered about her 17 year old life so far. Could her monotonous daily routine really be called living? Bringing her father his morning tea, helping her mother in the kitchen, taking an afternoon nap and waking up in time to start preparations for dinner and the daily puja. She was fortunate, she supposed, that she never had to worry about food, clothing and the other basics of life. Plus she was one of the few girls in her village who could read and write, thanks to a liberal minded father. Yet the restlessness and discontent kept growing inside her. She surmised it was because nothing ever happened in Sauviragram. Life went on the way it had probably been for hundreds of years. Even the lone Hanuman temple in the village was centuries old.
Ilaa realised that her discontent was tinged with a touch of apprehension. She realised that at 17, she was already past the age when village girls were expected to get married. Her parents were probably looking for a suitable boy from the village right now. That was the problem. She knew most of the village boys and they were so...so dull. They did not have two original thoughts in their heads to rub together. How could she spend the rest of her life with one of them? She had to get away from Sauviragram. It was suffocating her: the same monotonous routine day after day. There was no petty crime even. She wished someone...anyone would break the rules once in a while; and that she had the courage to do so herself. She needed to go someplace where her horizons were not so limited. She needed to get to Paithan. She had not been there since she was a child, but she had heard her father talk about it. It seemed like such a vibrant place; teeming with crowds and something happening all the time.
The problem was how to get there. She had asked her father to take her there during one of his frequent visits “on business”, but he said it was no place for a young girl from a village. She had asked him to elaborate, but he always brushed her questions aside. She had to find someone else. She had noticed the jagirdar’s 22-year old son Rahul looking at her in a peculiar way. He was a bit of a lout, but he had the means to get her to Paithan. Illa was not experienced with boys - in Sauviragram, the sexes were strictly separated unless they were married - but she instinctively knew she could use her feminine charms to get him to do her bidding. She knew her parents would be furious and perhaps face humiliation from the villagers, but she felt she had no choice. She had to live; if only for one brief shining moment.
Due to the stipulation of brevity, I will not go into the details about how Illa achieved her goal. Sufficed to say she found herself installed in the jagirdar’s townhouse in Paithan. When she first landed up there with Rahul, the servants smirked at each other, but did not look too surprised. Perhaps they were used to the master’s son bringing girls there. They treated her respectfully enough, but the sly looks were never absent. And what of her parents? She had left them a note. When her father found it, he went into a towering rage and threatened to disown her. He later mellowed down however. Illa was his favourite child and he reasoned that she could be allowed one mistake, however foolish and irresponsible. He would go to Paithan and fetch her back. He had the panchayat meeting tomorrow; and his absence would cause more talk. But he would go there the next day and get her back.
On the first night, Rahul came to her room and though she was inexperienced, she knew what he had in mind. She had mentally prepared for it as the price she had to pay for her rash decision. When he threw himself on top of her and planted sloppy kisses on her neck, she did not participate, but did not resist either. Thankfully he ejaculated before he could penetrate her and it was all over in a few minutes; after which he promptly left the room without saying a word. At first, Illa reasoned that as a girl, this was the price she was expected to pay for allowing a man to help her. But then something in her mind rebelled against that assumption. Why should there be different standards for men and women? Would he treat a male friend the same way? It hadn't always been so. Her father, an educated man, had sometimes read to her from old Vedic tests that he owned and treasured. In those ancient times, men and women were on an equal footing. In fact, in certain aspects, women were considered superior to their male counterparts. When did it start to change? Why had women allowed themselves to become subservient?
Ilaa could ponder over these matters later. Her first priority was to get out of this house before Rahul paid her another nocturnal visit. Fortunately she was not penniless. Her father gave her a generous allowance and since there was not much to spend on in Sauviragram, she had saved most of it. Thank god she had had the foresight to bring it with her. Trouble was she didn't know anything about the city and how to get round in it. Then she remembered that one of the jagirdar's elderly retainers had given her a sympathetic look when he first arrived. Maybe he would help her - if she paid him. She went into the kitchen and luckily he was the only one there. She explained her predicament and after hemming and hawing for a while, he agreed to help her. The lady who ran a dharamshala nearby was a friend of his (he winked when he said that) and let out rooms only to women. She would be safe there. She would require a deposit though. Illa assured him that would not be a problem. They agreed to meet outside the gate as soon as she gathered the meagre belongings she had brought with her; and they set forth.
Ilaa’s eyes widened in awe as they walked. Such broad cobblestoned roads chock-a-block with horse drawn carriages and milling crowds. She wondered how they managed to avoid bumping into each other, but somehow they did. There were street vendors selling jalebis (fried sweets) and coconuts and colourful scarves; and along with the neighing of horses and the chatter of pedestrians, they added to the cacophony. She spied a few couples and observed that the man always strode ahead without once glancing back to see how his wife was doing. She guessed that at a base level, society was the same everywhere. They soon arrived at their destination and after some haggling - and a bit of coquetry - agreed on a reasonable rent. The landlady insisted on being paid for a week in advance. Ilaa was not sure she would be staying that long. She knew her father would come looking for her and want to take her back with him immediately. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to convince him to let her stay for a while and have her adventure, but she would try. In any case, she had no choice but to agree to the landlady’s terms.
Ilaa tried to settle into her knew lodgings. The room was much smaller than her spacious bedroom at home, but she would manage. She didn’t have much to store anyway. After washing her face and hands in the community tap in the compound, she decided to explore her surroundings. The dharamshala was laid out like a single story chawl, with adjacent rooms opening out to a common corridor. Outside the corridor was a rather scraggy lawn which contained a community tap and an outhouse. The lawn abutted a side street and as Ilaa watched, a funeral procession passed by. The body was that of a woman, but she noticed that all the members of the procession were male. Surely the dead woman had lady friends. Why weren't they in the procession? She supposed it was another of the male domination things. She also noticed that while some of the passers-by bowed and touched their foreheads, others turned their backs as if afraid to look. Ilaa had always been too practical to understand these superstitions. When one died, the atma left the physical body, right? What was left behind was a lifeless piece of meat. So what was there to be afraid of? She shook her head. People were strange.
She wanted to explore the city. She would start by invoking the blessings of the lord. She saw that the landlady had come out to hang some washing; and ambled over to her. She asked the woman if there was an important temple in town and how she could get there. The lady looked horrified. A girl could not walk the streets on her own - at least not a respectable one. Besides, the pujari would probably not let her in. It was out of the question. Ilaa sighed. It seemed like her adventure was over before it had even begun. In a desultory fashion, she walked back to her room when she heard someone sobbing. The sound was coming from two rooms away from hers. She peeped in and saw a young girl - she couldn't have been more than 15 - crying and looking the picture of despair. Ilaa should have walked on. It was none of her business really, but walking away from a situation was not in her nature. She entered the room and sat on the bed next to the girl and put her arm around her. She encouraged the young one to cry her eyes out without saying a word. After a while, the crying subsided and the girl looked at her so piteously that Ilaa's heart melted. Gradually she pieced together he youngster's story. Her parents had arranged a match for with a 45-year old man. The prospective bridegroom owned a fair bit of land and was considered a good catch. She had pleaded with her parents not to do this, but they were adamant. They told she should consider herself fortunate that she would be living a life of comfort, if not luxury, and would not have to go through the same hardships that they had. Ilaa's heart went out to her, but her practical mind told her there was nothing she could do to help. But maybe her father could. He was a stern disciplinarian, but a fair man; and had taught her to always stand up against injustice. Yes her father was their best hope.
Ilaa knew her father would come looking for her, but he would not be able to find her in this place. She had to get back to the villa, even if it meant enduring one more night of Rahul's advances. She would probably forfeit the deposit she had paid the landlady, but she couldn't think about money at this time. Fortunately she had a good sense of direction and was able to find her way back. The old retainer looked surprised to see her, but he did not ask any questions. The next morning, her father turned up and strode angrily into her room. He tried to look stern, but could not hide his relief at finding her safe and sound. When she told him about the young girl and her desire that they should do something to help her, he shook his head and said it was not their affair.
"But father" Ilaa pleaded, "haven't you always told me that it was our duty to fight against injustice?"
He gave her a half smile, half frown. "You're doing it again. Trying to use my own words against me." Ilaa smiled. "It is not that I don't feel sympathy for her, I do" he continued, but there is no practical solution to her dilemma".
"They just want money. You could offer them money"
"A lot of money." He gave a wry smile. “But even if I could and they agreed, then what? We could hardly take the child back with us."
"Why not?"
"One has to practical Ilaa. From what you tell me, the child is not from the servant class. How would she fit into our household?"
"We could find a way" Ilaa begged.
"That's enough, daughter" he looked stern now. "I applaud your sentiments, really. However, we live in a civilized society; and there are some rules that cannot be flouted, not without causing a lot of damage. As you grow older, you will discover that there are many wrongs in this world; and we can right only a very few of them. Now hurry up and pack your things. We must reach home before it gets dark."
Ilaa knew she had lost. She turned her head so that her father could not see the tears welling up inside her. Well, she had not got her big adventure, but she had learned a valuable lesson. There was indeed a big, vibrant world outside Sauviragram, but it could be cruel and unjust too. Maybe life in Sauviragram was not so bad after all. There was something to be said about dullness.
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