The woman on the hill...

A cold breeze coupled with mesmerising fragrance of mountains was the key setting as I descended towards a hut on a mountaintop, approximately 4 kms away from the beautiful town of mcleodganj in himanchal. The hut was was actually a sort of shop serving warm tea and ever so yummy Maggi. 

As I started my journey yesterday through Dharamshala, I saw an old beggar must be in his 90s, was lying on the side of the road and the police and medical officers confirmed him dead. He was then taken for cremation. 

So the setting now is much more relaxing than the start of my journey. God bless his soul !!

As I was enjoying the exploits of these so called mountain offerings, I saw a small house about 200 metres above the shop. There was no other house nearby as far as I could see. The shop and house were the only two places on the entire hill

I asked the shop owner, a local resident and a friendly chap “whether someone lives in the house ? He said : “yes, a family of 4 live there. Husband wife and 2 kids. They are living there for 20 years now.”

I was so amused to see that. For no reason I wanted to meet them. Though I am not that sort of an explorer who just wanders and meets people, somehow I wanted to talk to them. See life from there perspective. I asked the shopkeeper If he can take me. He said “ sir u can go and talk to them. They are very friendly people”. For the first time I said ok. I will go and meet them

As I walked towards the house, I was wondering what will I say that I come from city to see how they live and whatnot.

As I moved towards the house, I knocked at the door. Nobody was there. I stood There and knocked 5 times. No answer even though the door was not locked. I was tempted to see inside but somehow I stopped and I started walking back

As I was coming back, I saw a woman, carrying a lot of sticks On her head. She must be in her late 50s. She saw me and then entered in the house. I was standing there for a moment and then I started walking. She came outside to do some work and I decided to talk to talk to her.

I said “Namaste Aunty”. She said in her thick accent – “Namastey sir. Wo dukan niche hai ( the shop is downwards)”.

I said no aunty I came from the shop only. Saw your hut. it’s beautiful. Just wanted to say hello. She said “okay”

I asked her for how long she was living there, what does she do, what about her family, how she provides for her family etc etc

It was 4:00 in the evening. She started telling me her story.

She was born in a village near Shimla to a family of farmers. She was married at the age of 15. She came here at that time only. She didn’t tell me the year she was born yet I figured she must be 50 years old. She told me her husband used to work for a very rich family as gardener and was the sole provider of the family. They tried to have a child but she had 7 miscarriages before she had her first daughter. This caused a lot of tensions between her and her husband. They used to fight a lot and her husband used to beat her But after sometime things became normal. They only had a daughter who was also diagnosed with a rare medical condition. She is on medication. She said everyday she goes up in the mountains, through jungle to get sticks for fire. Everyday her husband goes for work and comes in the night. All three of them have meal together in the night. Her husband’s family lives 20 KMs from there. As she was not able to provide a son, they have somehow abandoned them

After listening to this, I actually felt really bad for her. I asked her, why don’t you go to Delhi or Chandigarh? There are many opportunities. Hospitals are there for your daughter. Why are are staying here, alone, cut out from the world?

She replied -“ for so long I am asking this question to myself yet somehow I never went. May be the reason is “we are in peace here”. People come here from different places seeking peace. Seeking some happiness. Spending some quality time. How can I leave a place where everyone wants to come? Have a good time? Seek some peace

For her, this was her heaven. She didn’t needed money. She had problems before as she told me but now she was living normally. I was happy for her. But somehow there was some pain I could sense in her eyes. Yet I thought may be asking and probing this again and again will aggravate her. I took my leave and wished her good luck. 

She said – “ it was so nice talking to you, sahab. After so long I had a word with someone outside of my family. May god give what you seek”

I thought “that was odd”. But I said what the hell. And I went along. It was 6:00 in the evening and I had to go to my hotel

A beautiful morning proceeded the next day. I got up, had my breakfast and went to the same shop. I had tea and Maggi and thought I should say hi to aunty I met yesterday 

I went to the hut and knocked with full confidence and the door was opened. A man opened the door. He was close to 40 years. I said hello and asked For the women I met yesterday. 

He said that there was no one living with the description I had given them. Literally a shiver went through my spine. He called his wife outside. She was in her late 30s as well. They said they were living there for past 20 years and they have two kids. The kids showed up a minute later.

I literally pissed my pants that day. All the cliche haunted Bollywood movies had one thing in common. The ghost used to live in mountains and in 5 minutes I was able to recall every one of them. The magnificent trip had became my worst nightmare in merely 10 minutes. 

I went to the shop and told the shopkeeper about it. Even he got frightened. He told he doesn’t know anyone by that description. I ran from his shop, went to my hotel room along with manager and left within 10 minutes. I went to my cab directly and started my journey towards Delhi. Thinking that it was only a nightmare. I must have imagined the whole thing. Everything is ok. I am fine. Yet the fear was so obvious that I could not hide it. To get my mind of things, I took a newspaper from the stand and took off with my cab

I started reading the newspaper and the old beggar who died made the story in it. Some reporter captured his whole life and written a short article. As I was reading that piece, I started Shivering again. Now everything was clear to me

The man who died was Ram Babu. He used to live in the house above the shop where I went earlier. He had a wife. Her name was Savitri. They got married when they were very young. Due to her young age, she had 7 miscarriage. Later, a daughter was born into their home. She had chronic illness and would not Have lived long. Savitri used to love her very much. She tried everything in her power to make sure that her daughter is cured. She went to temples, doctors, everyone but her daughter could not be cured. Her daughter used to cry in pain every night. Her mother couldn’t bear her suffering any longer. One night, when her husband was not home she slit her and her daughter’s wrist and died. It was 20 years back. Since then her husband had gone mad. He lost his home. His life. He started begging for money and later died. The woman I met that day was actually “SAVITRI”

As I finished reading, I remembered that old lady’s eyes. I will always remember her as the woman on the hill. I don’t know why she chose to tell me her story, And I don’t have courage to go back and Ask for myself….