Paro

When Miriyam was born there wasn't much happiness in the village. She was the third daughter in a row of a much below poverty line parents James Ekka and Sujata. Sujata was a daily wage labourer in the rice fields while James was a daily wage worker in a rice mill about 20 Km away. Their village Bisrampuri a clutch of mud and pucca houses, is on the cusp of forest land in north-Chhattisgarh.

James’ family had always lived a subsistence life in harsh surroundings. His ancestors had been wandering jungle dwellers. About fifty years ago his grand-father had been liberated by Father James. Lord Jesus had always held their hand since then. But when Miriyam came he was deeply disappointed. A man should have at least one son to support him in his old-age and how was he going to get dowry for three daughters? Unlike James, Sujata Ekka was thankful and did not have any complaints of Jesus. She was also not worried about the girls. She knew well that girls were as good as boys. Boys were likely to fall in bad company and take to crime or booze.

Both of them felt indebted to the Church of Fr. James and his clan especially Sister Stella. Sis Stella was a tribal herself and after spending many years in far away north India, had found her way back to the Lord. As Miriyam grew up, Sis. Stella became extremely fond of her. She was happy keeping Miriyam in the Church and Sujata was happy leaving her there all day. While the older daughters had got sucked in to the fight against hunger and poverty, Miriryam was a lucky child. Sis. Stella began teaching her how to read and write when she got a little older.

Miriyam was thirteen when she noticed a visitor to their village. He was a tall, coarse man of nearly forty. Bimla, her next door friend told her that his name was Fakhrudin and he had come from Mewat to take a Paro! There was another man with him. The villagers were treating them politely. They were not deferential but Fakhru seemed well accepted. When Miriyam went to meet Sis Stella later in the evening she asked,

'What is a Paro?'.
'Why do you want to know? You are still too young'
'But what is it? There is a man in the village today come to take a Paro'.
'I will tell you later, but you stay away from him. In fact do not go home. I'll tell your mother that you will be with me for a couple of days'.Miriyam agreed, because she really enjoyed staying with Sis. Stella, but was thoroughly intrigued.

Next couple of days she stayed at the Church. She would go to the fields and return there. She had started earning Fifteen rupees daily in the sowing season. When she returned home, she went to her neighbours wanting to find out more of Fakhrudin. Her friend Bimla was not home. 'She must have gone to the well' she thought. She saw Bimla's mother returning from the grocer.

'Where's Bimla? Masi' she said taking one heavy bag from her.
'Bimla's gone. She got married yesterday and left'
'Married? When? Why didn't I come to know?'
'We had told Sujata. She did not want you around. Come I'll give you some sweets.'They had reached home by now.

It was dark now and Bimla's mother went about lighting all the lamps after keeping the groceries in a corner near the stove. Miriyam was intrigued and kept on asking questions, 'Who is the groom? Where has she gone? Will she come back for harvesting?'

She got no reply. Bimla's mother was tinkering inside and came out with a plateful of sweets. 'You know they gave us twenty-five thousand. Bimla's father has gone to the city to see her off and also put the money in the post-office. We are thinking of buying a TV, but there is no electricity in the village so maybe we’ll buy a motor-cycle. It will become easier to go to the city'.

Miriyam got no answers. She could not even figure out if Bimla's mother's delight was on getting a good groom for her daughter or getting this huge sum of money. Later at night she asked her mother, 'Who was that man Fakhrudin and who has Bimla got married to?' 'Bimla's husband's name is Arif and she will be living in Mewat. Now got to sleep'. There was a decisive edge to her mother’s voice, which stopped her from speaking further.

Inevitably Miriyam and her questions found their way to Sis Stella next day. She stood with arms akimbo, determined to get answers. Sis. Stella avoided for a while but a thirteen-year-old's determination cannot be easily brushed aside. She began, 'Arif and Fakhru came from a village near Nuh in Mewat. Fakhru has come here a few times in the past. He comes with some of his relatives every second or third year and marries him off to a girl from the village. Pays the parents handsomely and takes the girl away. Bimla is now a Paro.'

She was even more confused, 'Will she be happy? What will happen to her? Will she ever come back? What's a Paro?' Sis Stella patiently looked at her and replied, 'There is always a risk in such marriages but even our marriages are risky. Fakhru has been a nice guy. He got four of our girls married and all of them have been fine so far. Bimla should be fine too. Don't know of she will ever come back here, but you never know..'

'And there was a film called Devdas, Paro was his beloved. They have taken the name from there.'

Fakhru's next visit did not happen for another three years. Miriyam had grown up and could easily read and write now. The village was more or less the same as before. Miriyam had started taking interest in the development work that Sis. Stella was doing by educating village children. She was pretty! Tall and dusky. It was her eyes that were really special. Deep and dark, framed beautifully by arched brows. Long lashes flipped furtively. And she was confident! She would fearlessly speak out even to the Sarpanch. One summer morning when there wasn't much work in the fields, she saw Fakhru walk up to her house accompanied by her father.

She quickly ran into the kitchen and tried to hear what the men were saying. Within five minutes Sujata too came home and got busy preparing lemonade for the guest. Miriyam's heart beat ran faster with a strange mix of anxiety and fear, when she could not bear it she covered her head and ran out to the church. Sis. Stella was away to the next village. 'Why can't she be around when I need her?' thought Miriyam in frustration. She went home at sunset. She could see that her mother was standing in the doorway; her father was sitting on a cot outside their house and with him was Fr. James.

'Why can't he select my Sushila? She is well trained in all house work, works hard in the fields, she is strong and polite.’ her mother was referring to her eldest daughter. ‘Miriyam is still a child'.
'What can you do about that? You could still say no, if you wish.' said her father.

They fell silent as Miriyam approached. She stood awhile waiting for her mother to tell her something but she gestured her to get inside. Fr. James got up, blessed both of them and left. She could easily make out that both her parents were under immense stress as they sat down for dinner. They ate quietly and when James got up to wash his hands, she asked Sujata, 'What is it?'

'Fakhru has asked for you. For himself'.


*** ***


She did not know how to react. Should she be outraged? Should she feel happy? After all Fakhru was a respected man in the village and he had chosen her for himself. What did the future hold in store for her? And there was always this small matter of Fifty thousand rupees which could potentially transform the life of her parents. All these were still unanswered questions as she sat curled up near a window in a train screeching towards Delhi.

A queer mix of becoming a martyr for the family and taking on life as a challenge had tilted her decision to go for it. The next few days passed in a blur as she was engaged and then married in the Church. She looked like an angel in a silky white dress. Fakhru behaved like a gentleman gave her light peck on her forehead and exchanged rings. He had handed over the bag with fifty thousand rupees to James. Sujata had wailed when Miriyam came to say good bye.

Miriyam went to say bye to Sis Stella in her room and found her running her rosary with her eyes streaming with tears. Miriyam put her arms around her neck and began weeping herself. Stella took off her own cross and put it around her neck.

'Never, ever be scared of anything. I know you are really brave and intelligent. Never feel helpless, remember that all you have to do is board a train came back home. But go on and see the world. On your terms'

'Aloo Puri?' her reverie broke when Fakhru offered her a paper plate from her window on the platform. She took it and ate quietly.

After nearly two days in the train, they reached Delhi early morning. They got off at New Delhi station and checked in to a small hotel in Paharganj. After having breakfast, Fakhru let her sleep a while as he went out to buy some stuff. It was evening when Fakhru came back. He had brought some clothes for her and two tickets to Munnabhai at Regal. She changed into the Punjabi suit he had brought and went out. What amazing sights? She was spell bound. Bright street-lights; Billboards and cars. So many of them. And so many people?

She was still in a daze when they came back around mid-night, but was chirping happily and skipping along. She was beginning to like the simple warmth of Fakhru. He had a sense of humour, laughed easily and was kind to her. As they walked up to their hotel, she realised that they were holding hands. As they entered the rickety lift, her heartbeat ran faster and palms began sweating.

Fakhru opened the door to their room and switched on the lights. He locked the door and came and stood in front of her. He gently raised her chin and brushed his lips against her eyes. Her hair came loose and mouth was quivering as he ran his hands over her shoulders to take off her dupatta. He sat her on the bed and stretched to switch the lights off. Now there was only some diffused light from the street outside as he gently tugged at her shirt and took it off. Her tight smallish breasts pushed against her stiff chemise. He pulled that up and removed it. Her bronzed muscular body glistened in reflected light as she put her hands up to her face and lay back on the white bed-sheet. Fakhru ran light fingers from her hair down her arm over to her hip and pulled at her pyjama cord. It came loose and he slipped it off her legs. She squirmed and slipped under the blanket.

Fakhru took off his clothes and slipped under the blanket as well. He raised her face and gently kissed her on the mouth. She was shy but did not hold him back. His kisses moved from her mouth to her shoulders and she shuddered as he plucked at her hard nipples with his lips. First one then the other and then moved to her flat muscular belly as he lightly bit her in strangely pleasurable places. All the while his hands were gently moving on her thighs. Miriyam was on fire. She had not experienced anything like this before. She kept moving her legs against each other and was hugging Fakhru hard, taking deep audible breaths.

He was obviously an expert and understood that this was her first time. He did not hurry up at all. Let her rise to a frenzy, using his tongue in places she could never have dreamed of. When she thought she could not take any more, she called out to him. Fakhru then gently entered her. His control to gave way and he took her on a new journey. Miriyam had a silly smile on her face as she swayed to rocking of the bed. It was just like the train's rythm.

'Thank you' he said.
'Love you' she replied.

She woke up with the same smile. Her anxiety had all gone and she was now ready to take on life. They stayed most of the day indoors. Staying naked and unabashedly having sex over and over again. They got out in the evening and saw another movie in Connaught Place. Fakhru bought some gifts for his family from Janpath. Later they had dinner at a street cart and went up to their room.

As the bus pulled out from ISBT, her mind kept floating to Sis Stella and her village. Delhi's smooth roads and flyovers soon brought them to the mammoth glass and steel structures of Gurgaon. The glitz was missing in the morning but the grandeur was still awesome for a first timer. It took them nearly three hours to reach the small highway town of Nuh.

There a jeep was waiting to take them home.