Sunahri

Sunahri

“What kind of name is this? Just look at her. Does she even look ‘sunehri'?”

Savita aunty was talking to her mother, and she clung nearby. Barely five years of age. Sunahri idling away under her mother's doss overheard her mother answer hesitantly. “What's wrong with her name?”

It was a very beautiful name as far as Sunehri could discern. And it sounded more the mellisonant when her mother called her with this name.’ Su-na-hari’, syllable by syllable, lyrically. But today for the first time, unfortunately, because what she just now heard, changed her perspective about her name, at least for one lifetime. Her words kept on echoing in her mind.

“Just look at her complexion. She isn't even close to wheatish. You should have been more scrupulous in naming her. This name will stigmatize her for life. She would be denounced until she has this face with this name. People will make fun of her. She would be jeered aloud ‘Sunahri Sunahri”.

Manorama pretended not to pay heed. She couldn't answer her back, not because she didn't have one, but she preferred not to. Little Sunahri was watching intently at her mother's face expecting an answer. She was too small to comprehend an answer to this question herself. Feeling insulted, she expected her mother to at least say something in defense. She even tugged her mother's pallu to remind her. Manorama looked lovingly at Sunahri as if she is the most beautiful daughter in the world, and purported as if she hasn't paid any heed to Sarita. That secure look was more than enough for Sunahari to be reassured for now, and she resumed playing with marbles. She became just too oblivious of Sarita Aunty, suddenly her voice seemed to be coming from far and low, after her mother's adoring look and got lost in herself again.

During dinner, her father was sitting on the floor crossed legged and her mother was serving him hot chapatis straight from the stove. While serving him a chapati, Manorama expressed her doubts to him,

“Say, do you think we will be able to marry off her,” looking at Sunahri. Sunahri didn’t know much about marriages and vanity. All she knew was that every girl is a princess in her fantasy and every fantasy has a dream with a prince, who comes one-day galloping on a horse and takes the princess away, far far away on mountains to live happily ever after. 

Why would there be no prince for her? listening to people talk about her so far in her life she had started getting an impression that she was not beautiful, or rather was pretty ugly, though till now she hasn’t started appropriating people around her on the basis of good looking and not so good looking. The only way she had looked so far was whether a person was nice to him and not. And to her statistical analysis, so far the majority of people around her were good.

His father obviously was quite downhearted by her unattractiveness. As a father, he must have thought about it a million times. After all, who would like to endure the ignominy of not seeing off her daughter married? 

He said, 

“I had a solution when she was born.”

Manorma knew what solution he was recalling from her birth time. He had suggested Manorama, after having a good look at Sunahri as soon as she was brought to him by the midwife, in conspiratorial whispers, to dump her somewhere or leave her on the steps of an orphanage. A girl, that too disgustingly dark-skinned. Manorama resolved to name her Sunahri, vindictively.

That night she asked,

“What was the solution maa, father was telling you about, while dinner.” Her little mind was racing with all the possibilities.

She became disquieted for a second, but the very second moment she composed herself and said,

 “He wanted to melt all my silver ornaments and make a face pack for you. That could have made you look more white. But white isn't fair to me. Mark my words honey. White isn't fair. Real fairness lies inside of you. You are the most beautiful and loveliest daughter one can have.”She lovingly ran her fingers through her lustrous and thick hairs which were artfully messy on the forehead, and tied with red ribbon at the end.“But maa why did you stop him ?”

For a moment Manorama thought Sunahri knew the truth.

“Because all we had was those ornaments with us at the time of your birth. We were not quite well off at that time.” That was the best answer she could make up offhand.

Sunahri looked incredulously at her maa. She definitely wasn't a skinflint. As such, she trusted her mother. She never lies to her.

“One last question maa.”

“Why is gold considered so precious?”

“Because darling it shines even after bearing assaults and corrosion of lifetime wear.” Her mother looked in her eyes, just to ensure this goes deep inside her heart. She slept very peacefully and dreamt of the prince. 

Time rolled by and she had learned to shove her way in society. She was thirteen now and looked at her school as the place she would drown herself in the humdrum of the crowd, and save herself from the penetrating eyes and discriminatory comments hurled at her stinging her deeply. Academically an average student but on the tracks, she was nothing less than a nimble deer. Wonderfully strong, and persistent. Running away continuously, from something or the other, had tempered her to be a good athlete. She won the ‘best athlete of the school’ award in the recently held annual sports week. With her tall slender physique and long legs, All she had to do was to run, with her mind shut, from the take-off as fast and far as possible. 

Her sports teacher, Mr. Prem Pal, called her after the athletic meet and informed her that the zonal sports coordinator wants to meet her, on his recommendation and behest, and if convinced of her caliber would approve and sponsor her for a special coaching camp under an athletics coach. The camp could be a game-changer for her, Prempal realized and hence insisted on this meeting. She threw her bag, back home, and wrapped around Manorama.

Her father, however, did not quite like this idea of her daughter going away to another town to attend the camp. The very next morning she was heading to a place thirty km away to a camp being organized for the budding athletes of the district. She wanted to be someone. She wanted to come out of the closet. Someone whom the world would take notice and say, there goes Sunahri. And this camp seemed to her to be a means to fulfill her dream.              

It was around 8 PM, and after a grueling day on the field, she was nursing her cramps and aches lying on her bed in her room. It had been a strenuous week for her. The facilities were very lacking and food pathetic. But she has not let all these things bother her stubborn mind and body. It was a small 8 by 5 feet room with a smell of mold and the overpowering ammoniacal stench emanating from the nearby toilet. That was the second last of the camp and most of the athletes had gone by now. Only ones who ran half marathons were made to stay for one last trial tomorrow. She was quite hopeful of her being selected for the state-level tournament to be held next month. She had run too well and her Coach had been quite pleased with her effort and performance. In fact, he patted her twice for her timing in the 800 meters race. She was very close to the state record and was quite sure of breaking it with little more effort. On her inside she thanked his coach Sunder Pal for taking a special interest in her and supporting her and putting her one up against a few other girls.

She heard the rap on the tin door, and the athletics coach, Sunder Pal, came around from behind the door. Her heart thrilled with joy. Maybe he had come to inform her about her selection for the state.

She sat upright on her bed on seeing him.

‘Pranam Sir. Tell me am I going for the state”.

 He nodded and sat beside her as there wasn’t any other place or a chair in the room to sit. She became ecstatic and put her arms around him in sheer joy. She showed him the knots of her calf muscle caused by long-running. He put his hands on her calves and pressed to release the knots. She felt the pressure alleviating, and moaned with comfort. It felt good to have the pain melt like this by the hands of an expert. He moved his hands surreptitiously up her thigh, to her utter shock. She resisted vehemently and threw his hands away but his hands just flitted around her thighs, happening to touch her exposed thighs. With a built of the credit of an athletic coach he soon overpowered her and forced himself on her. Her face was a mix of disgust and surprise, and his lust and ruthlessness. She resisted with her full might and made an effort to shout but was gagged with one of his strong hands. His other hand working upon her chest. Sunder Pal looking rabidly cruel, pressed his face, reeking with alcohol over her face, trying to meet her lips. She tried to draw her lips as far as possible to avoid him. With one hand he was trying to do all he could. Her revulsing struggle or perhaps her struggling revulsion didn’t stop until he slapped hard on her face, her beautiful face, causing her lip to tear and ooze blood. That slap was too brutal for her to endure. She became paralyzed. She was too young to understand the carnality of rape, but she could in the least understand that his intentions were not right. She didn’t comprehend the word rape, though having heard this word many times before. Is she being raped now?. How will it happen?. What is so atrocious and agonizing about it apart from the violence?. Why is it being done? .what will happen to her?. What will she go through? All these and many more questions were battering her naive mind when she was slapped hard and knocked out.

Manorama knew instantly, by her instincts, and Sunahri’s swollen lips that something was amiss.

“How was the camp Sunehri?”

She can't remember anything about the camp. She didn't want to. She wanted to bury the devastating memories of camp in the deepest recesses of her memory from where these could not be recalled. She couldn’t recall how and when she left the camp, boarded the bus and came here. Looking at her swollen face and cut lips, Manorama understood what had happened. She just hugged Sunahri tight and she started showing signs of life by sobbing. 

Manorama didn't tell her husband and asked Sunehri not to tell anyone as well. He was already worried about her marriageability, and after this, he would break down and might do something extreme. She just kept this to herself trying to forget and asked the same to Sunehri though she knew it would take more than a lifetime to do so.

It wasn’t easier for Sunehri as well to take her mind off the incident. Days after coming back from the camp, she could still smell the stink of his drunk mouth and his sweat, with no source nearby either. Her breath would go fast and her heart racing with these smells, and she would be lost in that dreadful event every time she felt this, reliving, refighting, hurting, and terrified. There was so much more to survival than walking in the flesh. Her self confidence was gone. She was a shadow of a person she once was, unable to find her way back. Each day was a sentence in itself. Manorama wanted the same girl she loved before, the girl who brought a smile to her face with her over the age of intelligent talks. And there wasn't much Sunahri could do. 

After a month, when she had gathered enough courage and strength to go back to school, she resumed it. For the first few days, she sat in her class, listless and oblivious to the world around her. The next day Prempal intercepted her in the recess.

What's wrong Sunahri? You are not coming to fields for practice. You seem quite lost.. I hope everything is ok with you. She stood still, head down, digging the ground with her feet.

“Don’t you want to continue in athletics?”

She didn’t say a word.

“Was Sunder Pal supportive during your training?”

Her breathing went astray. Luckily Prem Pal didn’t notice.

Prempal realized she had a great potential in the sports and he wouldn't let this opportunity just squander for her, whatever her reason might be. He presumed her vacillation as her hesitant indisposition at the camp. Maybe it was too traumatic for her. After all, she was just 13, and camps can be too agonizing at times.

“Next Monday a sports coach for boxing is coming for a camp and by sheer luck, our school is the venue for the camp. If you wish you can try boxing if you want to take a break from running. It's quite an upcoming sport for girls and girls are doing pretty good at national and international levels.” He was trying to show her a dream, to motivate her. Sunehri thought for a moment and said yes. Whatever caused her to say yes, but it was certainly not name and fame.

She was picked in the trials and her coaching started with 6 other pugilists. They trained mostly after the school hours in the school auditorium, where a makeshift ring was developed. Sunahri was a fast learner and to his coach's surprise, she was doing far better than most of the students bigger than her, including boys. She was kind of a shy person avoiding eye contact. Her endurance for pain was remarkable. She wouldn't flinch if a cross punch hit her ear. Many times she would go bare-knuckled, just to be reminded by him to don gloves.

It was around a month in the camp when she was having her lunch on a bench when Sunder Pal came and sat beside her. She instinctively distanced herself from him, moving to the edge of the bench. He was startled by this reaction of hers. He held her by her arm and asked sternly 

  “What’s the matter Sonpari(he used to call her by this name)and wrangled her arm to make her face him.

“Nothing,” she said without even looking at him.

There is something Sonpari, I know, but it's ok if you don’t wish to share. I may help you if you trust me. By the way, your boxing coach met me yesterday, said you were doing good in the camp.”

“I love boxing.”

“But he was telling me that your punches are not as aggressive as they should be. He said you are more a defensive player. Somehow the punches should be more powerful and aggressive. This is boxing dear and it's won not by being defensive but by being aggressive. This is not a race.”

“What can I do? I am trying as hard as I can.”

“Dear, you are like a daughter to me. I don't have a daughter, but in you, I see my daughter, and I want you to make me proud.”

She thawed. Told him her agony, her suffering. The expressions changed on his face. Bood shot in his eyes.

He just allowed her to recompose. After a while, he spoke.

“Listen Sonpari and you listen to me well. You have to leave all this behind and move ahead. As there is only one thing you take from this. And that one this is that bastards face as a memento. Just try to see that face in your opponent’s face and that will take care of your punches. They would nasty.

As the years passed by her opponents changed but their face remained the same. She was, sooner than anybody thought, playing for the nation in Asian boxing championship games, held in Bangkok. She was too happy as her mother also had come along to see her about.. Sunahri’s opponent was from China. A fierce-looking aggressive woman. She was all over Sunehri as soon the gong went, with her kidney punches and her uppercuts. She had done her homework. Once she tried a rabbit punch but was declared foul by the referee. All sunahri was able to manage was to parry her face from her fierce blows. At the timeout, sitting in the neutral corner, she was confused as to what's wrong with her today. She saw in the stands. Prempal to had come to see her prodigy shine. He was sitting there and at that moment when their eyes met, he made a gesture of hand sweeping across the face. She immediately knew where the problem was. How could she forget it? Perhaps the arena was too overwhelming for her. In the next round, she surprised the Chinese with her aggressive punches directed at her face, which she couldn't stand, and succumbed, letting her win in a knockout.

At the podium, the Indian national anthem was being played and Sunaheri held her gold high in the air for her mother to see. And the crowd was cheering “Sunehri Sunehri.”