Hey guys, some terminology in this chapter.
Beti = daughter (almost like "dear")
Ji = Yes.
Daadajaan = Grandfather
Daadijaan = Grandmother
Sarees = A form of Indian Clothing.
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Yasmine's POV:
I grew up in a small town in India. I can't quite remember the name anymore because it's been such a long time. But I do remember that it was so small you could walk across it from one end to another in only one day. Other than the usual residents, many merchants selling sarees and jewelry would pass by. My favorite was the jewelry vendor. Sometimes if I sang for him, he would give me a free bracelet. I would run around town and show all my friends what I had received for my efforts. Other than that, I don't remember much of my life.
Sometimes, I can remember glimpses of my parents, usually through dreams or when I'm nodding off to sleep. I don't even remember how my mother and father look anymore. I do remember that my mom always smelled of Jasmine flowers, which is where my name came from, and that my father always wore this large silver watch. From what I remember they loved me very much and my mom often would tell me bedtime stories. I don't remember those either, just that they were old tales passed down through oral tradition.
My Daadajaan was village chief. He was very reputed throughout our small community and our surrounding towns all knew of his kindness and generosity, for he had often helped the other villages by sharing our resources and giving funds out of his own pocket. He was my role model. He was small and frail but he commanded such respect. I wanted to be just like him. I spent a lot of time with my grandparents.
"You're going to make such a beautiful bride one day sweet baby," my Daadijaan would often say.
That day I had gone outside and had found my mother with her friends weaving together Jasmine flowers. Their kids were also there. I never quite got along with the girls my age. It was my copper hair and gray eyes. Compared to their jet-black hair and black eyes, my looks were far from regular. I may not have been the most beautiful thing in the world, but I didn't think I deserved the torment I received form them. The other ladies were kind to me however, and as I drew near, they gestured for me to come closer.
"Here Beti, come sit with Urshi aunty." She was a rather plump woman with straight hair slicked back. She was my favorite. She always invited my parents over and often let me play with her son. He was quite a prince, if I remember carefully, and we were very close – he was 2 years older than I. All the other girls adored him, so it made my situation even worse. But when I was with Arshad, I didn't care. I could tell him anything, and we could talk about anyone and anything. He would save me from all the bullying I went through with the other girls, not aware that he only made it worse. But I still loved him for it, and I think he might have been my first childhood crush.
One evening we were visiting Urshi Aunty's house and Arshad and I were playing in the living room. He was showing me some magic tricks he'd learned and then out of a tablecloth he produced a wreath of Jasmine flowers. "Here Yasmine, one day when we get married, I'll make you a really NICE one. But you can keep this for now."
"What's 'marry'?" I asked rather innocently. I wasn't too aware of the concept. I was only six at the time.
"You know, it's when you're good friends with someone and then you live in the same house as them. We could play together all the time!" He said his face lighting up. "I heard our parents and they said we're going to get married."
"Really? I would like that! Could you imagine! It would be so much fun!" Of course I had no idea what marriage really was. It might be unusual for a child my age and his as well, to not know, but in a small town such as ours, it was quite taboo to speak of such matters if we weren't of age.
I went home that night feeling more elated than I ever had, thinking of all the fun we would have together.
"Who gave you those flowers, honey?" My mother asked me.
Breaking into a huge smile, I told her of our discussion.
Chuckling, she said, "Is that so, dear? Well, maybe you should keep that to yourself for now. You know what they say. If you spread your joy too far, someone might cast the evil eye." Taking her words literally to heart, I never spoke of it again. I didn't want to run out of the happiness I had.
Then one day I returned home from school, running and tripping all over the place. I'd just gotten my first test back and had gotten an A. I was elated and wanted to show my parents right away. As I approached my small home, I realized something was different. There were people everywhere, moving, walking in and out with solemn faces. I slowed my pace, sensing a tense atmosphere. Getting closer, I saw my Daadijaan weeping in our living room and some people hugging her and consoling her. I wanted my parents but they were nowhere to be found. So I looked for Daadajaan instead. I found him speaking to a few of the village men and handing them some money.
I ran back to Daadijaan, trying to cheer her up and held out my test to her, "Look Daadijaan. It's my first A in the school year. I'm going to be just like Daadajaan. So don't cry, I'll steal your sadness and give you only happiness."
She wiped her tears and looked into my eyes. Her gray ones mirrored mine. She held my hand, drew me in close and hugged me for a very long time. I was unsure of how to react. And then I started to cry too. I didn't know why I was crying or why I was so sad. But like a wave it hit me. And my mind went blank and I couldn't think anymore, I was just overwhelmed with sadness.
"Oh beti, don't cry. Don't cry. God is great. Everything happens for a reason. Now I want you to go to Urshi Aunty's place. I've already called her. You can find your way right?"
"Ji Daadijaan. Okay."
With that I left, not knowing why my house was bustling with sad looking people, why my Daadijaan was so upset, and why Daadajaan didn't even notice me. I told Arshad all this, and he only looked away. I always got the feeling he knew, he just wasn't allowed to tell me. Not wanting to give him a hard time, I let it go. I slept over at Urshi Aunty's house that night. When I woke up to get a glass of water, I heard her weeping and crying in her husband's arms. That's when I knew something was horribly wrong. By morning, I had not slept at all. I wanted my parents. Where were they when something had gone so wrong? Why weren't here to pick me up?
In the morning I went home and Daadijaan and Daadajaan were waiting for me. I walked up to the couch and sat in the middle.
"That's not how you sit, beti!" And then Daadajaan lifted me up lightly and placed me in his lap. "Now, beti, are you listening to me?"
"Ji, Daadajaan."
"Beti, we love you very much and that's why we want to be with you all the time right?"
"Ji, Daadajaan," I said not knowing where this was leading.
"Well, your mamma and pappa where very sweet people. And you know, God loved them very much. So that's why He wanted them close to Him," said Daadajaan his voice quivering.
"Beti, God will take care of your parents, and one day you can see them again. He's keeping them safe right now. He's keeping them safe in Heaven," Concluded Daadijaan.
I wasn't sure how I felt. I knew what they were saying. I wasn't old enough to understand the concept of death yet, but I knew enough to know that I wouldn't see them again. Never. That my last time looking at my mother was before I went to school that day. That she'd never see my A. These thoughts swirled in my head and I grew hot thinking about all the times I'd made her mad. Why couldn't God have let me say goodbye to them? And as I was thinking, my eyes started burning. Something wet and warm was streaming down my face. The vision of my grandparents was getting blurry. My mind was not thinking, and my eyes were not seeing. My legs were acting of their own accord. I was walking. What my grandparents were saying I could not hear. And that was the beginning of my misfortune. I walked far that day. Just kept walking and crying. Unbeknownst to me, my Daadajaan followed me, to make sure I was safe.
As I sat by the river, Arshad came to me. "You know, when people die, they don't really die. They just take a vacation. One day they'll come back to you. But until then, you can be with me. I'll take care of you and keep you safe."
I began to cry again. I thought I had run out of tears to cry, but they just kept falling. Arshad took me in his arms and rocked me back and forth. If I didn't have him and my grandparents I would have lost my will a long time ago. I was so pitiful that even the other girls had stopped picking on me. Slowly but surely, I became friends with them. And out past differences were forgotten as they realized, we were all together and in a community to support each other.
Of all the girls, my best friend was Diya. She was the one who had disliked me the most, partially because of her own little crush on Arshad. But after the death of my parents, she decided she'd forgive me for keeping him all to myself and we became close. Diya, Arshad, and I would hang out together for hours on end. We were literally attached at the hip. With Diya, I had found a confidante, a female influence with whom I could explore my femininity. I had come to live with my grandparents, and eventually, they overtook the role of my parents. With time, and with Diya's and Arshad's company, the pain of their death lessened and I began to miss them less than I had before.
A year passed, then two. Like this, I kept busy with my friends, school, and grandparents. Then when I was eight years old, my entire life turned inside out. And the pain of losing my parents could never compare to the pain I felt the next few years and the how I still feel now.
It was a chilly autumn day when I first saw him. He was a freakishly large man, with quite a frightening face. He would come by and stand in front of our house watching us go in and out. Eventually, my Daadajaan came out and asked if there was anyone he was waiting for in particular.
"I was looking for the Chief village," he answered.
"That would be me. Welcome to our humble town."
"Yes, humble it is." Replied the man.
Being polite, my grandfather invited him inside our house and my Daadijaan made some tea. Having just come from school, I ran into the house to see him sitting with my Daadajaan. Immediately I backed away, having a bad feeling in my gut.
"Beti, this is Yohan-sab." My Daadajaan introduced.
I walked up to him, and held out my hand to shake it. "I'm Yasmine."
I could feel like eyes piercing my skin. He touched my hand and felt it inside his larger hand. "Nice to meet you Yasmine. You will be beautiful one day you know." I was too young to know what was happening. Only that the way he looked at me was not right. And that my Daadajaan was not going to stand for it.
He grabbed my hand loose from Yohan's and asked me to go upstairs. "Now what is it you want exactly, Mr. Yohan?" Of course, I never went upstairs. I simply hid at the top of the stairs and eavesdropped on everything that was said.
"It's simple really. My brother and I have started this business. We need a factory to produce our merchandise. So we want to buy your village. Will you sell?"
"Sell my village? I don't think that's possible. This village is the community's, I am dispensable, but the people here won't want to be under you." My Daadajaan replied.
"Well you must. We need land to build our factory. And your village is perfect. What do you people do anyway? I'll give you enough money to move and settle somewhere else."
"I'm sorry, but this village is our home. Now please, kindly leave, and do not return."
"You have a beautiful granddaughter there. It'd be nice if she were to be… handled with as much love as you give her here. I'm sure those gray eyes and that beautiful hair are such an asset for her. Maybe you should think of her best interests when you make your decision." He sneered.
Rising, Daadajaan, walked to the door and held it open. "Leave now. If you ever speak about my granddaughter that way, I will personally see to it that you die a very painful death."
"Is that so? I'll be back again." With that, he put on his shoes, and left the house.
I had never seen Daadajaan become so angry ever. He was usually calm and collective and for me, he'd exploded at a complete stranger.
After that day, I saw many changes occurring to our village. People in suits moved in and out assessed the area and walked away. That evening, there was a town meeting. My Daadajaan headed it to notify everyone of what was happened. Daadijaan and I sat to the side listening to what was happening, listening to the men discuss what we were going to do.
"You know that this village is our home. Our farms are here, our life is here. Those big city hotshots want us to sell them this land. They've threatened to take action if we don't. What do you think?" My Daadajaan opened.
"Sell?! They're crazy!" Roared one of the uncles.
"This place has the mark of our blood, sweat, and tears. We can't leave here." Said another elderly man.
"I do not want to sell this place either, but don't forget we have neighboring villages we can disperse into who are willing to take us in and settle us." My Daadajaan informed.
"NO! We'll stay here the rest of our lives! Let the city people come! We'll defend this place with our lives!"
With that the roar of the men grew louder and louder as they vowed to protect this town form the city men and their thugs. They'd put their lives on it. Everyone went home that night feeling elated and content and pumped up to keep our land. A few men were posted around town to keep and eye out for the city men and their thugs. However, little did we know that disaster was going strike, and that our tiny manpower would mean nothing in the face of the city men.
I was fast asleep lying between my Daadajaan and Daadijaan. I often slept in my own room, but tonight, I slept between them to feel safe and protected. It wasn't long before I woke hearing yells and screams in the road. My grandparents waking up put on their robes and peeked out side.
"Oh dear Lord, forgive us and save us form this blight." My Daadijaan prayed. "What are we going to do?" She stared to cry.
Confused I got up to check what was happening, but my Daadajaan grabbed hold of me before I could. "Take her down to the cellar, I'm going to fix this mess." He said.
"No, come down with us, please!" My Grandma pleaded.
"I am Chief village. I will not run away from my duty. Take her and protect her!"
"Daadajaan! I'm staying with you! I'm not going," I began to cry. I didn't know what was happening but I didn't care. My life would be over without my grandparents anyway. I might as well stay for them.
My Daadijaan, grabbed me, and somehow, despite my struggles she over powered me. Covering my eyes, so I couldn't see the mayhem around me, she rushed into our little cellar, closed the door, and the two of us huddled together waiting for everything to be over.
Minutes turned into hours and though I was safe, and I couldn't hear what was going on, I heard the horrible screams of my villagers and then the awful silence that followed.
Suddenly, we could both hear footsteps and hyena laughter erupting from just outside the door. "HAHAHAHAHA that bastard old man! What did he think he could do with that puny knife!"
"Heh, I wanted the blood of the Chief on my hands."
"Don't complain, I did a good job didn't I? Did you see his guts hanging out? What a fat stomach that bastard had."
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. It took a little while for me to register. Hope against hope, I kept wishing they were talking about someone else. But in my heart of hearts, I knew the truth. They had murdered my Daadajaan.
Then unable to bear it, my Daadijaan gave a small sob. This was enough to alert the devils standing outside. Hushing up, we prayed they wouldn't find us. However, it seemed God did not care much for our prayers then. Slowly the cellar door opened and there stood Yohan with another equally bulky man.
"Well, well, well… What do we have here? The bitch and her money-maker."
"We aren't doing anything to you, so please just leave us in peace." My Daadijaan pleaded.
Before we could do anything, or run for it, the bulky man grabbed my Daadijaan's hair pulled her to her feet, as she grunted in pain.
"DAADIJAAN! STOP PYOUR HURTING HER! STOP IT!!!" I ran to her but Yohan grabbed me with one hand and pulled over his shoulder.
"Hmmm…" He sighed, looking at my dangling figure. "I can't wait til you're older. You smell like an investment."
"Don't do this please, just let us go!" I pleaded.
"Now, now, I am a businessman, I can't let such a good deal go." He said as his hand landed on my butt. I felt disgusted and awkward, but I couldn't show Daadijaan. "Get rid of the hag." Yohan instructed.
Before a sound could even escape my lips, the bulky man had taken out a large machete and in front of my eyes, I saw my grandma sliced to pieces, her body falling, her eyes closed.
From there it was as if I was observing everything in third person. Like I wasn't in my body anymore. I could see myself screaming as I took the scenery in. There were bodies lying everywhere. Some decapitated, some sliced just like my Daadijaan, and some were shot, with their brains spilled behind them. I couldn't see Arshad or Divya. But I saw Urshi Aunty and her husband, their faces crushed in. I could only recognize them because of her distinctly slicked back hair. I was more afraid than I had ever been and I heard myself scream and pounding Yohan's back.
Finally, he threw me in a truck. My only comfort was that here, Divya and Arashad were both with me. Scared and in shock, sweaty from all the terror of the night, we huddled together, cried, and waited for this nightmare to end. Either that, or our lives.
