The following story is in no way related to anyone. The scenes, the actions are in no way supported by me or my writings. It’s just a dark side of society that I have wanted to portray, a dark side that we all know exists and yet we fear to acknowledge. I do not blame anyone for their actions; I’m no one to judge. But my stories are only a medium of knocking on someone’s conscience. And again thank you for taking time out and reading my post 🙂


The winds howled that night, the dogs having cowered into any shelter that they could find, whimpering for the storm to end. Rains lashed on the windows, the lightning setting the tone for a fearful night. A tree came crashing down somewhere, the old buildings creaked.

Despite this, the screams and the shouts were distinctively heard over Nature’s chaos. The neighbor’s glued to their windows, trying to make decent assumptions for their tongues tomorrow. The pelting rain made their visibility difficult so they could not see a body in white being thrown out on the road, a figure clutching a small boy to its bosom. Abuses followed from inside the house, as the door slammed shut on her and her son. The rain poured down as her sobbing began, her son trying to wipe the tears off her face, but the tears and the rain just came. The boy confused, clung to her and wept.

A few of them saw what happened, but being the good neighbors they were, they would let their tongues do the talking tomorrow, rather than their actions today.

She sat there as the storm abated as the dawn approached, not moving an inch, the tears forming a iron clad will, her only solace that her son was with her.


Vikram was pacing up and down the corridor, a whirlpool of emotions running through his mind, when he heard the cry. The world around him had fallen into a deathly silence and the cry of a new born filled the area. He looked heaven words, a single tear rolling out of his eye. A tear of joy, a tear of becoming a father. His son had been born. A son who would make him proud with his achievements, a son who would take his name forward , a son who would be there for him in his old age and a son who would light his pyre and send him to the heavens.

An ecstatic Vikram had made a decision even before he looked at his son.

The hand that had grown coarse with handling machines in the mill were now shivering as he held his son for the first time. The boy snuggled, deep in sleep in his father’s arms, the love of the newly born father overflowing.

“This calls for a celebration”, he said as he looked warmly from his son to his wife.

“Celebration?” Pooja asked perplexed.

“Yes, a celebration, a feast, for everyone for my son has been born. My son”

“But, Vikram, where will we get the money for the feast? We have hardly enough money to pay for the hospital expenses”

“I’ll get the money from Dev bhai, you don’t worry”

“NO !, your brother may be a money lender but don’t forget that he threw you out of your ancestral home and made papa sign the deed taking the ancestral house in his name and threw you out of your own house. I don’t want anything to do with him anymore.”

“Pooja, you worry too much, anyways the fault was all mine. I bet he’s forgiven me already.”

She had an impending sense of doom but she kept it within her, knowing her husband had very well had made up his mind already.

The small house was more than decorated for the occasion. The guests poured in. Vikram’s laughter and hospitality enhanced the evening. Even amongst the flurry of people wishing her and praising the health of the boy, Pooja could not help but catch a few glimpses of Vikram as he went around playing the perfect host. The smile on his face was the biggest she had seen, and her only solace was that her life and taken a new meaning and that Vikram was happy.

Little did she know that this smile was the last one she would see on his face.

The celebrations for the arrival of the scion of the family proved to be too hefty. Vikram lost his job due to the factory where he used to work as a supervisor, shut down. The brother came down heavy for his payments and Vishal started to work double shifts as a menial shop floor worker, and contracted tuberculosis. One day his son prodded him to get up, but he never did.


She stared at the house, reminiscing the day it had been so beautifully decorated. A furious rage ran through her wanting to blame the child, but how could she? A mother she was after all. She clutched the child to her bosom, the hair matted to her face, her figure ghostly. She walked off into the rising dawn, the dawn of her life being eclipsed forever.

Picking up the broken pieces of her life, Pooja set out to rebuild it and Mahesh became the center of her world. She worked menial jobs, worked as a maid, a household help to help fulfill her daily needs and to collect enough money to send Mahesh to a school, toiling hard day and night. Dawn to dusk she worked, trying to bring up the boy with her meager income. Yet times would come when she forgave her part of the food for the growing lad, never letting the finances dip in his school fees and expenses.

Yet, the societal pressures on her were a constant worry for Pooja. Boys questioned Mahesh about his father, the neighbors questioned her about her past and the attention she grabbed from the lust filled eyes that followed the widowed mother across the chawal and the lewd comments that were made, when she passed the flesh thirsting wolves, who made no attempt to hide their desires.

The most prominent of the stares came from her landlord, a fat, burly man in his fifties whose eyes never left the young widow, whenever she passed by him, twirling his mustache he tried to strike a conversation whenever he could, a courteous smile or a nod misread, always looking for a chance.

Mahesh grew and so did his expenses and it start occurring that Pooja found herself a few short to make her ends meet. One day she found that she enough money to either pay for Manan’s books or the rent. She chose to spend on the former, hopeful that the landlord would understand and she went to his place to bid a few days’ time.

A single fan whirred as she entered the darkened room, the pot-bellied man, under the fan, a half-finished bottle of country liquor sat on the table besides him. The room stank of alcohol of alcohol and sweat. He half-opened his eyes and saw her angelic in white standing at her door petrified of her surroundings.

Pooja realized that she had come at a wrong time, as the half-naked man got up and drew closer. She mumbled of coming to him later, although the drunken man would hear none of it.

She explained him of her situation and asked for a few more days to pay the rent.

“But some arrangement has to be done?” he sneered.

“I’ll get you your money in three days, please give me some time until then” she pleaded.

He thought over, taking a huge gulp from the bottle, eying her lustily “But then again, even I need something in return from you” and grabbed her arm and pushed her into himself.

She struggled against his grip, her shouts resounding in his empty house. He grabbed her, she bit him hard. He roared in pain, she took the opportunity to free her hand from his grip and landed a weak but effective kick to his crotch. He doubled forward, falling to the floor, trying to get up but the alcohol finally kicking in, she ran leaving him on the floor.

Mahesh would never know why his mother sat in the corner and cried all night. He assumed it to be the rains.


“Stop it Mandy, Don’t do that. Mom might see”, she looked at the man who was gazing her lovingly and trying to tickle her.

“Let her, she’ll have to get used to it anyways, we’r getting married soon anyways”

A throat cleared in the back ground, startling the young couple from their comfort zones. Pooja walked in glaring at the young man, but her eyes softened at the sight of her new to be bride. Mahesh had come back from Bombay after completing his studies and also had brought along Anvesha along with him. They had met in college and had fallen in love and now wanted to marry each other. Pooja had given her consent although Anvesha’s uncle was against her marriage with Mahesh.

The wedding took place with all the glamor that it could take place with and once again Pooja was contented with her life. A sense of pride washed over her as she watched her son enter her home with his bride and the contentment of being able to successfully fulfill the tasks of a mother even thought it took such a struggle, which she made a point to never let it be known to Mahesh about what all she had gone through.

The couple was happy and contented with each other and this had Pooja at ease. Allthough there were somethings she would have rather not had her daughter in law do, but she stayed mum over it. Partly because she did not have the courage to and partly because she blamed it on her generation gap. She did try telling Anvesha a few times, but the wife turned a deaf ear and complained to Mahesh that his mother was hounding her. Tensions ensured between the couple and tempers had flown quite a few times. Mahesh was getting increasing frustrated day by day. Anvesha too would be seen dishing her anger at everything possible. Pooja tried talking to her daughter in law but she was in no mood to set things right.

Pooja thought it was better to stay out and stop interfering in the couple’s life. Months passes and soon Anvesha bore the family its newest member, Siddharth, who quickly became his grand mother’s only passion. Her whole days went taking care of the new-born and trying to usher the boy with all the love humanly possible.

Anvesha became worried of the influence that the old lady would have on her son and thus started keeping Siddharth away from his grand mother.

“Mahesh, It’s high time we think of moving to our own house.”, she said as she patted Siddharth asleep.

“But Anvesha, this is our own house. Our own home”

“It might be yours, but not mine. For me it’s the old woman’s house and nothing more. I cannot let my son grow up being in influence of the old woman”

“Mind your language Anvesha, that old woman is my mother and your mother in law. Don’t you dare speak such about her”, he exploded.

“Fine then Mahesh, it’s your choice then. Either you can have the house and your mother or you can have me and our son. I’ll be going to my Uncle’s place in two days. You have to decide till them”, came the ultimatum.

The son and the husband were at a clash. Mahesh knew that Anvesha had already made a decision and would go through with it, how much ever he tried. but there was no way he could leave his mother.

What the young couple did not notice was that Pooja was already standing outside the door, and had overheard the conversation. She too had made a resolute decision. She thought it was best to leave her son to live his own life in his own terms rather than be a part of it and it was after all for her’s son’s happiness.


The train rolled into the platform. The early morning breeze waving over the place. The cool atmosphere of the hills brewing over the misty morning. Mahesh got out first with the two bags, Pooja behind him. They hadn’t spoken a word since they had boarded the train. The walk and the drive to the Ashram was marred by the same unruly silence between them.

The attendant came and took the bags to Pooja’s room. The other elderly people looked on at the new entrant and the son as if probing them with their eyes. Mahesh had his eyes on the paper work to be filled, although he could feel the eyes boring into him. He did wonder as to what was the reason during the entire journey he could not look into the eyes of his mother. It was her decision to come to this place and spend her days away from them. Still what was the reason that he could not look her nor any other person in the room in the eye. He tried to get the best one that he could for his mother.

Their meeting was short and curt. The customary touch of the feet, a mother’s concern for her boy and his family, a son’s necessary words of calling him if she needed anything, and he was gone. A single tear left her eye as he made his way to the gate. Not looking back once.

Mahesh took his window seat on the train and fell into deep thoughts. The rustling of a news paper jerked him from his thoughts and he found himself sitting in front a white bearded man clad with a khadi jacket and press card around his neck.

“Hello, My name’s Ashok. I’m a reporter with the Times of Hindustan.”

“Mahesh, working with Mahindra.Ltd.”

“so what brings you to Shimla, all alone ?”

“Work”, came the curt reply from a man who wanted to keep to himself.

“Ah I came down here for work too. You see I’m doing a report on the Old Age Homes in and around the area”

“Old Age homes ?”

“Oh yes, they have come up aplenty in these few years. It’s like a trend these days it seems. But many of them are very badly maintained. They may charge you but they do nothing for the inmates there. Dirty rooms which no one cleans, mattresses filled with bed bugs and so on. No personal hygiene maintained. The food there is shabbily prepared and the quality of the same is worse. There are no in doctors even. The aged inmates have to work on their own..

His voice trailed off as Mahesh’s mind went back to his mother and to the hell he had pushed her into. He wanted to get off the train but Anvesha’s threat did not make him move. A tear gleamed on his face, as the son within him died that day.


I’m no one to judge anyone. These are just my views on the society that I see today and my stories are based on such true life incidences that happen.

We do hear a lot of cases of female feticide and parents being thrown into Old Age homes. I’m not saying that Boys are bad and Girls are good. It’s left to your own personal choice. I’m just asking you make the right choice. If Mahesh had been a girl then the story might have been completely different. Might have been. I dunno. But the fact that wanting a boy and not a girl is itself degradory. If your mother would have been killed in the womb, you would have never been born.

I know it’s difficult for a husband to survive with the son inside but it has to be done. I have seen men take responsibility of their entire families and still they are the happiest. This is my bit to stop the Mahesh inside all of us. Hopefully.

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