The Price of Life

Binita looked at the Sun.

It was on its final laps of descent. After a few minutes, the horizon will gobble up the last few remaining rays of the Sun and darkness will descend on Earth.

 

But the Earth will get the light of the Sun next morning, while her life will always be filled with darkness – a darkness from which no one can pull her up.

 

All the light in the Universe will not be able to end the gloom in her life now.

 

Oh, how cruel this life is!

 

Only a few weeks ago, she had got the confirmation that she was pregnant with her first child. When she had shared the news with her husband Nirmal, he had launched into an impromptu dance.

 

He was indeed a good dancer. In fact, the first time she had seen him, he was dancing with his friends. That was during the Busu Dima Festival, an annual cultural festival celebrated by the Dimasa tribe of Northeast India.

 

Both Binita and Nirmal belonged to the Dimasa tribe and were born in two adjacent villages located in Haflong, the only hill station in the state of Assam. Haflong itself was the district headquarters of North Cachar Hills, a picturesque hill district which has been witness to a violent insurgency for more than a decade.

 

And it was this insurgency which had brought darkness to the life of Binita.

 

It was a cold December night two weeks ago. Binita was busy preparing dinner. Nirmal had called in the afternoon saying that he would be a bit late. He was a Reporter for a local newspaper and it was usual for him to be late sometimes.

 

‘I need to dig deep in order to find the truth’, he used to say.

 

As Binita was peeling the potatoes, she heard a car stop in front of her house. Nirmal had a bike, so it was unlikely that it was him who had come.

 

She peeked through the window and was surprised to see a Police patrol car in front of her house.

 

Binita opened the door and went outside; her heart beating faster, as if it knew the Police were here with some bad news.

 

And bad news it was – her husband had been shot dead.

 

No one saw or heard anything. The Police patrol found his dead body lying on the side of the road, with a pool of blood forming around him.

 

Since then, Binita had lost all hope in her life. The happiness of impending motherhood had turned into a gloom of sadness.

 

However she was not even able to grieve properly. Her house was filled with people – their parents, relatives, friends, all were there to console her in this time of mourning.

 

The Dimasas believe that every person has a beseh (soul) and when a person dies, it is the duty of those alive to arrange for the smooth transportation of this beseh to the damra (afterworld).

 

All these rituals ended yesterday and now finally Binita was once again alone in the house. And now all her thoughts and apprehensions were weighing her down.

 

A few times Binita felt like taking her own life but she knew she could not do that for the sake of the one who was now growing within her belly. Killing herself would also kill another life. She did not have the heart to do that.

 

Now standing in the courtyard of her house, Binita began to wonder what life has in store for her.

 

And there was another question bothering her – Why was her husband killed? What news had he reported that the insurgents had killed him?

 

She was unable to find any answer to that. She regularly read whatever Nirmal reported and during the last many months, he had extensively reported about the good things going on in the district. Then why was he targeted?

 

As darkness began to fall, she went inside the house.

 

She had just sat down on a chair, when there was a knock on the door.

 

Binita reluctantly got up. She was fed up with all the visits people were making to console her.

 

She opened the door, expecting someone from her village. But instead she saw four unknown men standing in front of her.

 

Wearing jackets and covering their mouths with a shawl, they looked at Binita. 

 

“We have something to give you.” One of them spoke in the local Dimasa language.

 

Binita was a bit surprised. A feeling of fear too now had begun to creep in. She was not able to say anything in reply.

 

The man took out a packet from a bag and handed it to her.

 

“What is this?” Binita asked, her voice shaking a bit.

 

.

"There is Rupees One Lakh here. It is from our organization. There was some mix-up and our boys received a wrong order. We did not want to kill your husband; it was all a mistake. As a form of compensation, please keep this money on our behalf.” The man said in a normal voice, as if he was making a payment for some random purchase.

 

‘Killed by mistake!’

 

A blaze of fire burst up somewhere inside Binita. All her fears evaporated in that fire.

 

“You people have killed an innocent man and have made me a widow. You have denied my unborn child, the care and affection of a father. And now you have come to offer me money. So Rupees One Lakh is the price of a human life according to your organization?” Binita was almost shouting now.

 

The four men looked unsure about what to do.

 

“Your organization says that it is fighting for our people, for our community, and this is how you fight - by killing innocents in the name of your so-called revolution.”

 

“Just take the money...” The man tried to speak.

 

Binita threw the packet in the face of that man. A flash of anger radiated from his eyes. His hand involuntarily went towards his waist; maybe that’s where his gun was kept.

 

But Binita no longer cared.

 

She shouted at the top of her voice, “Take out your gun and shoot me. Kill me and my unborn child. We do not want to live in such a cruel world where innocent people are killed in the name of revolution. Just shoot me!”

 

Binita opened her hands wide and stood in front of the men.

 

They looked at each other, speaking through their eyes. They then turned around and began walking out.

 

The packet of money was still lying on the ground.

 

Binita picked it up and threw it towards them.

 

“Take this blood money away.”

 

One of the men picked up the packet and then they went out.

 

Binita still stood there.

 

Few minutes passed by.

 

Binita’s anger was slowly subsiding but there was a new resolve building inside her.

 

She looked up at the sky and spoke out loud, “Dear Nirmal, I know you are up there somewhere. I promise you I will continue the work that you have been doing tirelessly for so many years. I will give your child a reason to be proud of and work towards a better future. Please bless me wherever you are.”

 

A star shone bright as if in answer to her prayers.

 

Binita smiled.

 

The darkness left her inside and dissolved into the night.

(This Story was one of winners of HWR Short Story Contest 2022)