The Escapade

No matter how hard her mother tried Muskaan was one of those restless kids who would never really go to sleep before they have completely used up their reservoirs of energy. Mother kept reminding her about how she would need to wake up at five in the morning for work and school; but all the wailing fell on deaf ears. Not that Muskaan was disobedient but sleep; that just wouldn’t come to her. Ignoring the requests of her mother, she continued gazing blankly at the hammock hanging in the open space of their shack.

The hammock was not like the cozy ones where rich people love spending their lazy afternoons but an epitome of their poverty. Made of ragged clothes, hanging through the support of a tree it was the closest to a real swing that Muskaan had ever ridden. Muskaan would often put her little sister, Khushi into it and use it as a cradle for her. It was their only swing, their only cradle and the only game they knew how to play. Since the day Muskaan started working, she did not ever find time to play again. Every night she would long for a day when she could ride the hammock, play with her sister and roam as carefree as she used to.  Hiding her face from her mother, she would silently weep craving to play like few of the other children at her school; until sleep would come to her.

It was a beautiful children’s park filled with all kinds of games girls and boys of her age love to play. Seesaw, merry-go-round, swing set, slide, jungle gym, chin-up bars, sandbox, spring rider, monkey bars, overhead ladder, trapeze rings, playhouses and mazes, not one but it had all. It was a perfect place to nurture the innocence of childhood and let it grow. Muskaan was too happy to be at this place. She went on to have a ride on the merry-go-round. She was about to step on the carousel when she heard her mother shouting. Startled, she opened her eyes; too disheartened to realize it was just a dream that could perhaps be never fulfilled. What a pitiful life, she would say coaxing herself to get ready to face the day bravely.

No, Muskaan is not alone rather there are several other girls bearing the same fate as her in the slum. She is no princess who wakes up every day on a luxurious bed, put on her fancy slippers or go to an English Medium School. Indeed she is a poor little girl who sleeps on a tattered woven carpet, walks barefoot and could never afford to attend an excellent school.  

No matter how hot or cold the weather is, she would get up at five in the morning, sweep their little dwelling, bathe, put on her only school uniform,  arrange her school bag and set off to work at six. Muskaan is not just a ten year old little girl but a housemaid. The rough and tough texture of her hands did not speak of a carefree childhood, but of the strength with which she carries her burdens.

She and Lakshmi, another housemaid of her age would race every day to the locality where they work. That was the only time Muskaan would really forget about all the worries poverty brings with it. They would giggle, chat, and play only to cover a distance of ten minutes in almost half an hour. During this short span of time, she would laugh like the merriest child on this earth. It wasn't the most beautiful of all, like the one a photographer would like to capture in his camera or an artist in his portrait. But it was cheerful and worth watching. Her laugh spoke volumes of her innocence while the eyes screamed about the miseries faced, pleading someone to listen to them. The best part of her day was those few minutes she would spend with Lakshmi at morning, the minutes that would refuel her energy reservoirs for the entire day ahead.

Once she reached the Jena Niwas, the home where she was a domestic servant and not just a child she would behave much more responsible than the kids of her age. She would wash her feet before entering the house else her dirty feet might soil the expensive wooden flooring; at least this was what the lady of the house has told her. She would religiously do the same work every day without asking about a thing or complaining. Firstly, she would sweep their three bedroom house and the verandah. She would always need to hurry lest the elderly grandmother of the house might get late to worship the Gods and Goddesses. Then, she would sit to clean all the stained utensils near the tap in the verandah. She would then mop the floor and water the plants in the garden. Soon, it would be time for Miss Savvy; the pampered daughter of the Jena’s to get ready for school. Though just a year younger than Muskaan, she looked and behaved with much more innocence than the kids of her age of the slum where Muskaan came from. They were not just two little girls, but faces of two different India; while one resembled the rich the other portrayed the poor.

Every morning after carrying the mundane household work Muskaan would press Savvy’s school uniform and polish her leather shoes. Unlike her she had four set of school uniforms, which would always make Muskaan feel a little jealous and sad about not being able to afford it. Hiding from the eyes of everyone, she would once in a while put on Savvy’s tie on her shirt and keep staring at the mirror, longing to go to an International School. Sometimes she would try her fancy bangles, hair pins and bands, even stealing one or two. Such was the weight on her shoulders that sometimes the child inside her would forget the subtle differences between the right and wrong. She wouldn’t even notice one missing among the dozens; she used to think while picking up one for herself without asking for anyone’s consent.

Being done with all the tasks, she would then accompany Savvy to the bus stop carrying hers as well as Savvy’s bag on her shoulders. She would then walk to her old and ramshackle school. Her school was a typical Government school with no proper classrooms. They would study under the shade of a huge banyan tree in summers and winters, while during the rainy season the classes would remain suspended. Had it not been for the mid-day meals, the school would have remained empty throughout the year, such was the quality of education. Muskaan and other girls like her would ceaselessly worry only about the tasks required to be done as a domestic help in the evening. They would discuss about the household ladies and the amount of work they are laid with. The discussions would continue all day long, till the time when they would be again required to go to work.

As soon as she reaches, Savvy would begin pleading her to play doll house along. While Muskaan eagerly wanted to, she would retreat in the beginning. Like a responsible person, she would continue washing the utensils watching Savvy play. Savvy would then request her mother to let Muskaan play with her, and then she would happily agree. She would play with her forgetting all about her liabilities. It would soon be dusk when she would get back to complete the remaining. She would wash all the utensils, knead the flour and cut the vegetables for the dinner.

After 6 o’clock, Lakshmi would come running to get Muskaan. Afraid of the dark, they would then run together to their homes. Muskaan would gift her sister Khushi, a toffee that she had stolen from Savvy’s room. Savvy always had a bunch of chocolates and toffees for her and Muskaan always believed that no one would ever notice one less than the actual count; after all Savvy ate loads of them every day without counting. Khushi would nibble at it cheerfully making Muskaan forget all her weariness. The whole family; mother, father and the two daughters would then sit and eat rice and boiled potatoes for dinner. Her father, a rickshaw puller would bring in some vegetables only if the day’s earnings had been good enough. Then, while Khushi will go to sleep, Muskaan would sit under an old lantern trying to complete her homework for the school next day.

Those were good old days, thought Muskaan lying on the hospital bed, all tied up with tubes and pipes. You can never really differentiate good from bad, or happiness from being sad. She used to complain silently to the Lord about the tough life she had, but today, she was whining to get those good old days back. When one laments the situation he is in, he forgets it can be worse; as it had happened today with Muskaan. Muskaan meaning smile; something that perhaps Muskaan would now never feel like doing, for while returning from work one evening, she had been brutally raped.

The mere mention of that unfortunate day makes her tremble with fear and pain. Lakshmi was sick so she stayed back at home, while Muskaan came to work as usual. It was more than six in the evening when she left for home. Afraid of the dark, she was running as fast as she could to reach home and lay her head in her mother’s lap; when suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulders. She saw two men from her own locality eyeing her in a strange way, so strange that she could not understand their intentions. Not even sparing her time to think for a moment, getting hold of her, they took her to a dark place behind a bush. One of the men had put handkerchief in her mouth not allowing her to scream, while the other carried her with his strong arms. While one guarded the area, looking out for any motion or people coming to alert his crime partner, the other man hurriedly undressed Muskaan. She did not know what was happening to her or why was it happening. She felt a pain, a pain as strong as she couldn’t even imagine yet she could not shout. She felt something penetrating her body leaving her to bleed. She wanted to move, to run away, yet she was unable to. The men then exchanged positions. It was now turn of the other one, to do whatever it was called that they were doing. He forced himself upon her. A well built man lying above a small girl who was yet to attain puberty; she felt too senseless to move. While the time they had moved away, she begun blacking out.

It was only after an hour she was found out amidst the bushes by some people passing by lying completely naked, bleeding profusely. The people had been kind enough to bring her to the hospital but apathetic to cover her with a piece of cloth. From the very next moment, she was no longer Muskaan, but a rape victim. The rape victim, Abhaya (one without fear), a ten year old girl was how she was identified among the masses and media. Such was the brutality she was subjected to that she could not even have solid foods since the past one month she has been lying in the government hospital. Her culprits are yet roaming free with police being unable to identify them by the only pieces of information the little girl could give in written. Khushi is no more that little girl for she has replaced her sister’s place as a domestic servant. Her schooling as seized so that she could reach home at time after work.

Abhaya as the whole country knows her; Muskaan as she used to be, kept praying for her good old days to come back; unaware of the fact that she would never be allowed to live the same life in the society. She kept praying to escape from the tubes and pipes, their beeps and displays that she could not figure out. She could hardly even sit; such was the extent of damage. Her intestines had stopped functioning and the bleeding would resume once in a week.
We have tried, as hard as we could, said the doctor to her father conveying to him about how slight chances Muskaan stood of survival.

She was weak, yet she always dreamt to escape. She remembered the hammock, she missed Lakshmi, she longed to see her little Khushi instead of the new one and gift her few toffees. Today, there was a lot of chaos around her. Lying on her bed, she started staring at the blue sky out of the small window of her room. Her desire to escape has been growing ever since she has regained consciousness. Praying for the same to the Lord, what she did not know was there isn’t an escape for her. Too young to understand the cruel world and the cruelty of the heinous crime, she did not know she would never be accepted the same way at school. Other girls would not be allowed to talk to her and no one would marry her for she has been raped. 

Unaware, she continued staring towards the sky with a desire to escape. It was a different world now. She saw beautiful fairies around dressed in a white gown, with their magic wands in hand. She looked down ecstatically to see herself standing on a cloud. It was a beautiful place, just like the children’s park of her dreams. She went towards a gigantic mirror only to find herself dressed like a fairy. All clad in a white gown, her long hairs neatly done, a magic wand in her hand just as she had read in the fairy tales. She looked down onto the planet earth, her family was weeping, bidding her adieu, and she knew the escape has come. The breathing has stopped, the heart doesn’t pumps anymore, and she feels no suffering, no pain, for she had her own escapade!