#ColourYourWords: Green-The color of fertility…………. of only women?

DISCLAIMER

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this Story are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and unintentional.

The year is 1961. Village: Selu. State: Maharashtra.

Rukhmani looked at the green bangles on her brown wrist, colored red with fresh Mehendi, and asked her mother "Why is didi wearing green bangles when her saree is yellow?"

Rukhmani, then a five-year-old girl had asked her mother at her didi's wedding since she knew that her didi always wore bangles that matched the color of her saree.

"Green is an auspicious color, it is the color of fertility" her mother had told her, in a voice that was radiant with hope, her face beaming with dreams of little grandkids who maybe just a few years away.

"Fertilit…………?" Rukhmani's round black eyes had grown rounder and wider with curiosity. It was the first time that she had heard such a weird word.

Her mother had laughed, so had her aunts, who had gathered in the marriage mandap. 

"Don't you want to become a mausi Rukhmani?" teased one aunt, touching Rukhmani's chin very lightly

"Don't you like babies, Rukhmani?" teased another aunt, looking lovingly at her.

Didi must have heard the word 'babies' because it was said a bit too loudly and clearly and of course purposely!

It had its desired effect. For didi blushed. Profusely. So did the groom. Discreetly.

Rukhmani was now looking at her mother strangely since now she was not just curious but also confused.

'What is the relation between the color green and babies and that fertili…………?' Rukhmani wondered to herself, looking around the mandap, which was now busy laughing with happiness and anticipation of more happiness to come in the future.

Naturally, the auspicious air of the ceremony became more auspicious than before.

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Twenty years afterward, when Rukhmani got married to the son of the village Sarpanch, she too wore green bangles on her wedding day though her saree was red.

But now she knew the exact reason for which she was wearing green glass bangles and blushed properly like any coy bride. For she knew that green denoted nature, growth, and life. 

Was green not the color of the plants and vegetation, the sign of bubbling growth, the symbol of life and its liveliness?

She looked dreamily at her green bangles and started playing with them for they made such sweet tinkling noise. That was exactly what she was doing when she was waiting for her husband on their first night. Playing with green bangles and dreaming about all the things like growth, prosperity, and abundance that they symbolically meant for their future.

Her husband, Kishan, the spoilt brat of the village Sarpanch, who did not wear anything remotely green to denote his fertility, pounced upon her the moment he entered the room and consummated their marriage, hastily, greedily, urgently, and a bit roughly. As if he was extracting his right. Without a word spoken to her. Without any consent or approval from her side. As if it just did not matter. Or as if it was something that he had never given a thought to, so irrelevant and unimportant it was.

Rukhmani had shrugged off the incident as something which happens to all new wives and had instead started concentrating on all the perks that she got for being his wife. The wife of a rich, influential man. The power, the money, the glory, the respect. Rukhmani started enjoying everything as she kept on caressing her mangalsutra, which denoted her marital status prominently.

Playing with her green bangles now meant a different thing for Rukhmani who knew what was expected from her next.

The blessings of mother nature in her womb………

The growth of the next generation in her womb…………

The blossoming of life of the Patil heir in her womb………..

The birth of a baby, preferably a boy, to carry forward his forefather's glory and heritage and safeguard the acres of land and the kilos of family gold that he will inherit.

In the first few months of marriage wherever she went with her husband, be it to a temple or any relative or neighbor's house, an age-old ritual named 'Ooti bharna' was traditionally carried out. Wherein, she was given a coconut, a fistful of vermillion-sprinkled rice, a few coins, a saree or a blouse piece, usually green in color, and a dozen of glass bangles, of course, always green colored! Then she was blessed by an elder lady with lots of babies.

Rukhmani loved the tradition and all the attention and love that she was getting initially, but after she had gone through innumerable such traditions, she had started getting slightly bored with the color green………

For the first year of her marriage, all was well, and she too was her exuberant self, but after two-three years, she started feeling many curious eyes on her, looking at her and especially at her stomach expectantly, that she started becoming conscious, and restricted her movement in social circles as much as she could.

The next few years were heavier for her, for she used to register every month and every menstrual period with increasing dread and dismay. Naturally, there was no dearth of advice and solutions from both the kinds of people, 'those who really wished her to have a baby' and 'those who just wanted to enjoy her misery'. Promptly she was sent by her in-laws to all the temples and holy shrines that they could think of and there too the same procedure was repeated. She was given an ooti of a coconut, a fistful of vermillion-sprinkled rice, a few coins, a green saree or a blouse piece, and always green bangles, to denote fertility! Then she was blessed by the Priest so that she acquired fertility and would bear lots of babies.

This went on for years and not a day went by when she used to be made to realize her worthlessness, her infertile status and now the people around her did not even care to whisper. They just things on her back or sometimes even on her face, and though she had to gather all her mental courage to put up a brave front in front of them, when she used to come to her room, she used to cry out miserably and pitifully, wetting her pillow with fresh tears of insult and agony.

She was now in her sixth year of marriage and she 'not being able to conceive' was the only point that now defined her! Everyone had conveniently forgotten what a wonderful cook she was or how she was the only lady from her town to have qualified for the Shlok recitation competition. All her achievements and qualifications and attributes were left in the background and paled in comparison to the most important thing that she was supposed to achieve- bear the baby of the Patil family.

The cycle of anticipating and failing, which had been going on for years now, had started taking a toll on Rukhmani and she could be seen, shut up in her room, sitting on her bed, looking ahead with a worry for the future which was now very shaky and uncertain, all the time playing with her green glass bangles, as per her habit of years. But these days, whenever she used to look at her green bangles, she felt a sense of shame coupled with guilt and a sense of incompleteness that enveloped her entire body, her entire being, her entire life.

Needless to say, her equation with her dominating husband, had gone from bad to worse. The flirt, raunchy man got one more reason to stay away from her, saying 'that he does not like to come to an empty home'. Though he had never used the word, used so frequently by his mother, Kishan had surely started treating Rukhmani like a '*banj' or 'one who is infertile'. No more insulting words were necessary since Rukhmani herself had started behaving like a failure, like an incomplete person, and moving around the house with that look of defeat.

Obviously, she was now never invited to any 'Ghod Bhariye' or baby showers, where the new mother-to-be, dressed in green, would be given an ooti of a coconut, a fistful of vermillion-sprinkled rice, a few coins, a saree or a blouse piece, usually green in color and a dozen of glass bangles, of course, always green colored, to denote fertility!

If she could, Rukhmani always witnessed such functions from a distance, because she was rarely welcomed in such an event, and even if she was, she dared not go. For it once more reminded her of her infertility, her inadequacies, and her failure at conception. Rukhmani had started hating the color green more than ever for to her, green now denoted incompleteness, failure, and above all her infertility!

Ten years into the marriage, Rukhmani had still never conceived, and her mother-in-law had died without seeing her grandchildren, cursing Rukhmani for her infertility.

Rukhmani's marriage was also collapsing and though there was no official separation, Rukhmani started living in her own marital home with the feeling of 'being a burden'. Now, even her husband had started considering her to be 'an inauspicious lady' and more importantly 'a *banj'. 

When Kishan realized her most important limitation, he had started using the word '*banj 'rather loosely to insult, taunt or rebuke her, even at times when the fight had nothing to do with being *banj or being infertile. Like when the dal was not cooked properly or there was less sugar in his tea, he would yell "You can't even cook properly, you *banj". Or when the house was not clean or he could not find his wallet and bike keys, it was never "you are so careless' or "you are so lazy". It was always "you *banj"

*banj. *banj. *banj.

These words were more horrible than even curses of an early death for Rukhmani, who would have even died happily as a 'complete woman' after giving birth to the Patil family's heir. But she was not even lucky to be blessed with that. For she had never even conceived!

'The weight of being an infertile weighed more heavily than the weight of being pregnant' realized Rukhmani when she saw that though pregnant women are often weighed down by pregnancy and the growing weight of their belly, they were so happy that they felt as light as air!

Her husband was hardly home these days and rumors of his affairs with numerous ladies of doubtful characters had reached Rukhmani's ears, but she could not do anything about it. Or maybe she too felt that he was fully justified in seeking happiness elsewhere, since Rukhmani had disappointed him thoroughly by not giving him the 'only thing that he ever wanted from her' -as per his own admission.

Strangely, Rukhmani did not feel jealous when her husband was with another woman. Was it because she too had stopped loving him? She knew that she had already lost her husband's love and interest in her as a wife and a woman; now the only thing that she was afraid of was 'an illegitimate child of Kishan born from one of the numerous women with whom he had illicit relations'.

Kisan's child, she knew, would change the equation completely for her.

She would then be totally useless and unwanted to him.

Her husband, who did not agree with his mother on most of the issues, agreed on just one. He married again, as per his mother's wishes he told her, and with the sole hope of bearing an heir to the Patil family. Kishan's bride was a twenty-something girl of a poor farmer, who was only too happy to land such a rich groom for his daughter. So when Kishan decided to marry Meena within a week of meeting her formally, Meena's family had obliged and now Meena, the young fertile girl, had landed at Kishan's house. As his wife.

Rukhmani had looked at the wedding proceedings of her husband from a distance and was grateful that her husband was kind enough not to kick her out of the house, but was providing her free shelter and food, for life. 'What more could an infertile woman, who had not given him the only thing that he had ever asked for, expect from her husband?' she reasoned logically and thankfully and had consoled herself.

When Meena, the new bride, was welcomed with an ooti of a coconut, a fistful of vermillion-sprinkled rice, a few coins, a green-colored silk saree, and a dozen of green glass bangles, to denote fertility, and was blessed with the hope of bearing the heir of the Patil family, Meena gloated with pride and Rukhmani with wretchedness.

 Rukhmani had watched the entire episode with a mixed feeling of nostalgia and gloom.

When she saw Meena, the coy bride, blushing and playing with her green bangles, a feeling of helplessness consumed Rukhmani and she realized that never had she hated the color green so much!

Meena proved to be the wife that Kishan always wanted for just after the first month of marriage, she gave him the coveted 'good news' that he was going to be a father soon!

There was festivity in the entire Patil house!

Everyone was beaming, Meena was smiling bashfully, and Kishan was getting tired of accepting congratulations from all the corners of the town. Meanwhile, no one noticed Rukhmani and her tears and if even they had, everyone choose to ignore them both completely. For Rukhmani and her emotions just did not matter to anyone anymore………..

It was the seventh month of pregnancy and Meena's 'Godh bhariye 'or baby shower was the talk of the town. It was rich and lavish with everything being just perfect, save for the shadow of Rukhmani, who had been regaled to a corner of the house and had literally become a shadow………

Meena's baby shower was traditional, she was given an ooti of a coconut, a fistful of vermillion-sprinkled rice, a few coins, a green jari saree, and a dozen green bangles, to denote fertility! Meena, the daughter of a poor villager, must have been overwhelmed by the occasion for she was seen looking exhausted, her eyes a bit frightened by all that was going around her.

'Must be scared by expectations' someone said.

'The baby shower must be tiring for her' another muttered.

Meena's baby arrived promptly on the 9th month of their marriage and Kishan was so overjoyed that he did not know what to do and what to think and used to just keep on staring lovingly and with wonder at life's little miracles- his cute son!

A light sound woke up Kishan one night and he was surprised to find a stranger in his bedroom, snatching away his baby. Kishan panicked, cried out "Meena, Meena!" and flung himself at the thief who was about to run away with his baby.

Meena woke with a start, put on the lights, and let out a sharp scream when she saw what was happening.

A tall thin man, a rusty village bum, was fighting with Kishan for the baby.

Kishan's shouts brought his many servants into his room and within no time the thief was caught and was being bashed up mercilessly. Kishan was now kicking him hard with a ferocity that even he did not know existed in him. 'Maybe that instinct is developed when it comes to protecting one's baby' thought Kishan philosophically.

"You wanted to steal my son, my most precious thing, for money…………." Kishan was shouting at the thief who was yelling "Stop, stop……….I am not a thief………… I am not here to steal your baby!"

"That why have you picked up my baby in the middle of the night?" Kishan screamed angrily.

"I picked my baby………, not yours," said the man, blood spilling from his mouth "I am his father" and he continued looking at Meena, Kishan's wife, with that unmistaken fondness and longing.

When Kishan realized the impact of his words, he took looked at Meena, his wife, who had that look of a guilty thief caught red-handed, and so she merely bowed her head in shame.

Kishan slumped down heavily on his bed, his world spinning, when Rukhmani who had heard the entire conversation…………………..took a moment to understand the implication of the situation and then suddenly, laughed out loudly and sarcastically, and said to her proud husband, who had always behaved as if he was blameless, "You are *banj!" she shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her husband.

"Remember all those women you slept with…………….none gave you a child……………and now even your young wife………….ha…...ha… You are *banj" saying so, Rukhmani collapsed on the floor, and looked at her green bangles which were supposed to denote her fertility but now did not know whether to love them or despise them…………………………and for the first time in her life wondered……why the hell did anyone not think of a man's fertility? 

*banj= a woman who is infertile.