By Kumar Tito
As the village schoolmaster’s red cow was being loaded onto a boat by its new owners, tears streamed down the animal’s eyes. Watching the scene, the villagers murmured among themselves,
“Lakshmi is leaving.”
The schoolmaster and his wife could not hold back their tears either.
A few days later—
The schoolmaster’s only daughter eloped with the young man who worked as a servant in their household. The boy belonged to the political camp opposed to the schoolmaster. To his supporters, it felt like a glorious victory.
People from the girl’s own side remarked,
“Alakshmi has finally left the house.”
A close relative, eager to exploit the family’s misfortune, sneered,
“A daughter can’t run away unless her mother secretly approves.”
The grotesque celebrations of the boy’s supporters, their mockery, and the despair of the girl’s own relatives all converged upon one target—the devastated family.
Humiliated and terrified, the schoolmaster’s wife seemed to collapse like a punctured balloon. Carrying an invisible wound within him, the schoolmaster endured every insult in silence.
The cherished princess of her father’s home found no fairy tale awaiting her. She survived on half-filled meals, rolled bidis for a living, and worked as a domestic servant. One day, leaving behind a young child, she died without medical treatment and was reduced to ashes on the funeral pyre.
And the man for whom she had abandoned everything remarried before a year had even passed.
Nearly ten years later—
Another beautiful young woman from the same village eloped with a brilliant young man from a so-called lower caste. Once again the village erupted. Once again politics found fresh fuel.
Chaos followed. Families stopped speaking to one another. Social hostility, bitter arguments, and endless accusations continued for almost five years. Then, as always, life quietly returned to normal.
Today, that very man is the only person in the village who openly maintains two separate households with two wives.
After his second marriage, his first wife wanted to take legal action. But her husband calmly persuaded her:
“Even if I lose the case and my job, I’ll earn well again because of my abilities.But I won’t take responsibility for supporting you and the children. Think about how you’ll survive.”
The helpless woman was not thinking of herself. For the sake of her innocent children’s future and financial security, she accepted her husband’s reasoning.
True to his promise, he built a house for his first wife and their children at the far edge of the village, in a lonely place. He provides for them generously and visits them from time to time.
Political rivalries enrich the opportunists. Witty onlookers find fresh material for amusement. The powerful settle their scores. Lovers find new refuges.
But it is always those who wanted nothing more than love—those who never learned the cruel logic of society—whose lives wither long before their time.
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Author’s Note: In Bengali culture, Lakshmi symbolizes prosperity, blessing, and good fortune, while Alakshmi represents misfortune and social disgrace. This story uses these two symbols to explore how society labels women, exposing prejudice, gender bias, and human hypocrisy.
First published on Medium.
