The story of Neeta

WRITERS’ NOTE

The journey of “The story of Neeta” has been very special to me. It took me around a year to finish the writing part. I believe, I did 100% justice to the story as a writer. I hope it will reach your heart. Please let me know how you feel after finishing your job as a reader.

To start with, I wholeheartedly thank my parents for what I am today. I am highly indebted to my best friends for all the help they have done. I also thank my chums who were there for me, suggesting the necessary modifications from time to time. This would have not been possible without their help.

Happy reading :)

(Neeta speaks…)     

 

"In the first place, I wholeheartedly welcome you to a world where I’m crowned princess. To everyone reading this, thank you for joining me today. I’m very much delighted to share my life happenings with you. The lines were sometimes… maybe most of the times, written with blood and tears, but fear not, this isn’t horror.”

Chapter 1: “Neeta, the lost princess”

Hi everyone. I am Neeta, Neeta Meher. A very calm going monotonous girl. Right from my cradle days, I always had a suspicion of sharing things with people and talking in public. I preferred being introvert to expressing views. The only one who listened to me all the time was my diary. Yes, it remained my best friend for almost two decades. I used to share all the seven universal human emotions with my diary. This is the only thing/person who listens to me till the end of space and time, I sensed.

Diary is one of the best things in this world, I believe, for it consistently allows us to pen down our emotions. It never gets bothered, like us, humans. The most elegant thing about this diary is, it allows me to rediscover myself. For this reason, it remains my closest pal, come what may. It gives me as many memories to cherish as many to cry.

My first diary was a gifted one. "Neetu, this is your true reflection. Never lose it" my mom said. “Sure maa” I promised with a smile. She placed her hands on my cheeks and kissed me. I still remember those moments. It was my eighth birthday. She was holding a chocolate high, and I was trying hard to take it from her. I tried and tried, but failed. I made my choice to give up. My mom took me into her hands and opened the chocolate cover. “I love you mom, a lot” I said. She rolled down two drops of tears and hugged me tight. It was very affectionate.

“Happy birthday princess!” I noticed my dad rushing from the opposite corner with a bunch of balloons. He handed them over to me, lifted me high and kissed me on my right cheek. “He called me princess? Wow. Thanks dad” I said, keeping my voice low. I started rubbing my cheek out of innocence. I felt ecstatic. They held my hand and took me to the lawn. All my relatives and neighbors gathered. There was joy all around, and it got amplified as time progressed. We all were very much celebrating the occasion

.

(Those happy moments brought a smile on Neetas’ face.)

“Such a memorable day.” Neeta said.

(After a short pause and smile, she continued…)

It was time for bed. I was more than sleepy. We had had our family dinner at around 9 pm. I had unpacked all the gifts with a bliss and made my mind to get some sleep. My mom and dad kissed me one more time before switching off the lights. I was very much happy.

Papa, am I really a princess?

Yes beta. Of course you are.

But, I don’t have any superpowers.

Yeah, but you have a pure heart, and God loves you for that reason. By the way, a daughter is always her dads’ princess.

Thanks papa. You know what, mom gifted me a diary today.

You liked it?

Yeah, it was really nice.

Never ever lose that honey. Promise?

Promise.

That’s my girl. Okay, it’s already late. Go to sleep. Good night.

Good night papa, good night mumma.

Good night beta. My mom planted a kiss on my forehead before leaving.

9 hours later, at around 7:30 in the morning, I woke up to the scream of my parents. They were in the kitchen. My mom was in contact with an electric wire, and my dad, with her. Both were shrieking out of tremors. It was a perfect storm, I can say. My heart started beating faster than ever. By the time I neared, they collapsed. I put my soul in bringing them back to consciousness, but they didn’t respond to my actions. Gautam uncle, one of my neighbors called an ambulance, however…

 (Neeta pauses for few seconds)

All at once the lightness vanished, leaving me in durable darkness. All I am living for was gone. An electric spark separated my parents from this world in no time. I was hurled to the farm of melancholy. “The world of sorrow it is my dear”, the heart whispered. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. I was in low spirits, like never before.

Diary was my mom's last present. This could be the sole reason for my inseparable bonding with writing logs. I grew listening to the fathers' words in an orphanage and holding diary, 24/7. As an eight-year-old, I always asked the creator to send my parents back. I was awaiting his reply. I attended school, carrying parents in my heart, wondering if they were beside, and then weeping for their loss.

(Neeta started dropping tears on the floor).

Chapter 2: “From loneliness to finding love”

(Neeta was pursuing her bachelors at New Delhi)

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, a famous poet of the late nineteenth century added these words to her collection, “Laugh, and the world laughs with you; weep, and you weep alone.” Maybe she was veracious with reference to my childhood. Yes, I was weeping alone. Nobody was ever concerned to know my suffering. That incident where I lost my lifelines, never went out of my intellect. I tried to move on, but it never happened.

It was my second week at college. The rain started tapping on the ground on a pleasant morning. Everyone around was dancing to the beats of the downpour. I looked serene, standing on the other side of the lecture hall. At that instant, I became cognizant of his arrival.

Hey… Hi, I am Aditya.

Hi, do I know you?

I hope not. But, I am your classmate. B.tech 1^st year, section C.

I remained calm.

Umm, May I know your name?

I am Neeta.

Wow. That’s a beautiful name.

Thanks.

So… coffee?

Maybe later? I have some work to do.

Sure, I will see you around. Bye.

He waved his hand, and I left that place.

The second meeting of ours was fortuitous. I had this habit of visiting book stores on weekends. It was the third Saturday of the month. I took a quick shower and stepped out to get a narrative for myself. I was a lot more curious to pick one from the ‘New Arrivals’ section. As I was going through the book covers, my eyes landed on the work of Janet Evanovich. “Twelve sharp” it read. I was dipping into the reviews when Aditya called me.

Neeta, hi. Aditya. We met a few days ago, remember?

Yeah, I do.

So, what’s the book in your hand?

Twelve sharp by Janet Evanovich.

Cool. That’s a good choice. You will definitely love it.

Hmm, okay.

Coffee, please?

This time we walked to a café nearby and ordered two cappuccino for ourselves. He wanted us to spend some quality time, having little conversations over a cup of coffee. We talked about our interests, hobbies, and schooling. TBH, he was doing the talking most of the time. I was hesitant to speak my heart out and hence stayed quiet. He started diving into his past steadily. I didn’t listen to much of what he said until these words came out. He started weeping.

It was around 10 in the night. I asked my parents to stay. They promised that they would return soon, but they never did. It was all my fault. I shouldn’t have let them leave.

His detailing dragged me back to the excruciating day of my life. 12 April 1996. The day I was grief-stricken, the day I didn’t have any reason for my breath, or maybe the day a princess lost her country. Yes, it was the day I lost my family. The entire visual flashed in front of my eyes. Unaware of the consequences, I left the spot with tears rolling in my eyes. I didn’t know how it felt to him then.

(Two days later, at the college library)

I am sorry, Aditya. It was not meant to hurt you.

That’s okay. I have class, see you later.

We both were in the same section. We didn’t have any lecture that hour. I knew he was lying.

I greeted him every time we met. Apparently, he didn’t reply. I wanted to apologize for my actions. That guilt of leaving someone alone in the middle of talk persisted in my mind. I waited for almost a week for his attention, but he never really cared. I called him on a Friday evening while he was passing by my side.

Aditya, I need to talk to you.

But I don’t want to. Let me go.

Please Aditya, please.

I’m sorry. I don’t have time for your words.

Please, I am praying you.

Fine. Fifteen minutes is all I can give you.

Aditya looked preoccupied. He was looking down on me. I waited for his attention but got nothing in return. I began crying in silence. Maybe it was my parents, the reason for my tears. After a long hold back, I shared my past, everything. I spelt why I had left him when he had been talking about his family. I turned on the waterworks. He broke into tears too.

Neeta, I am really sorry. I didn’t know you were in pain all these days.

No, that’s ok. I am sorry. I should have not left you at the café.

Not a problem. Friends?

Friends.

As I became older, I started speaking myself out. Aditya was always there to listen to my cry. That was when I started feeling better and stable. Things around were moving fine. He disappeared all my pain in short notice. We realized that we love each other, a lot. I was completely into him. Our journey, from our first meeting in the corridor to the day we went out to celebrate his birthday, was so light-hearted. And since then, I only see him in my dreams.

(Neeta closes her eyes in silence. Tears spotted again. She wipes her face, takes a heavy breath and continues…)

Chapter 3: “Back to the laps of misery”

If life is a garden, love is all about the ravishing flowers. Love makes life beautiful. Life is unaccomplished without love, as I see it.

Three years, two months, Four days, and we were still in a relationship. We were very happy about ourselves. It was his Twenty-third birthday, his third since our relation. We were having our romantic dinner in the candlelight.

“Had I not fallen in love with you, I would have bought a Lamborghini for myself by this time. You almost took a year and a half to start a relationship” he said while having food. We laughed. I always liked his words. He sounds like a wordsmith to me. “Well, then you should have preferred Lamborghini to me” I replied. “It’s fine Neeta, all this happiness is worth the wait” he said. I started blushing.

Aditya, close your eyes for a moment, please.

What? Why?

Just do it. I have something for you.

Okay.

I put a cover in front of him. It was neatly gift-packed and had something written on it. “Happy birthday sunshine” It read. As soon as he opened, he was burst into tears. The cover had a pencil sketch of us. It had taken around six weeks for me to finish the sketching. He came to my chair, hugged me and said “Neeta, thank you so much. I love you”. I was happy too. We finished our dinner, paid the bill and decided to walk back to the college, hand in hand.

That was the time when everything started fading. Out of nowhere, we were approached by…

(Neeta pauses in search of words)

...Six morons, who were heavy on alcohol. I was terrified and hence asked us to move away hurriedly. But they didn’t let us go. We were completely surrounded. Aditya asked them politely to leave us but his actions didn’t gain their sympathy. They started commenting about my sex appeal. I felt embarrassed. I was trying to hide behind him. Things became much worse when they started touching my public parts. I was wearing a green saree. They unhooked the strips from behind. I started shivering and crying, silently. Aditya was trying hard to get us out of their sight. He was trying to cover me. But, those (in a very harsh voice) goddamn mother fuckers didn’t let us go (crying again). They killed him brutally by beating his head against the rock and I was… (In a low voice, shedding tears) raped in a dense forest, far away from the town. They didn’t even leave a piece of cloth to cover myself. I was nude, struggling hard with pain and sorrow. I was bleeding. No one was around to listen my scream. I lost consciousness soon after.

This news spread like swine-flu, through the air. Notes, texts, emails were not enough to all those assholes to laugh at my pathetic condition. I stayed in the general ward for almost a month. No one stepped out of their house to know how I was. Everyone pointed, it was me who killed this guy. “Had he not seen me, he would have been alive today.” I gave it a thought and started worrying. My relatives came to know this, yet, they never bothered. Now that really is a bitter pill to swallow. I heard one of them say “Those people would not have raped if she had stayed in her room”. What the fuck was that?

Chapter 4: “The rise of Neeta”

(One week later…)

I was not arranged to disclose myself to society. I hated my surroundings like never before. Being impotent to walk across the streets as a common girl, I pronounced to die. I started preparing my suicide note. I was filling the paper with ink and tears simultaneously. I started sobbing, recalling my past. As I progressed, my hand started shivering and my eyes, closing….

“Oh dear! I missed you a lot” the walls of the hospital said. I was admitted again. The moment I came around, I was congratulated by a lady surgeon for earning the world's most prestigious job. "You mean the world to someone from March 12th” Dr. Jaya Agarwal said. Her words didn't make any kind of sense to me. The doctor decided to put it in elementary words. She revealed "You are going to be a Mother. The delivery date is 12th of March. Congratulations". Cursing me with those words, the doctor left the emergency ward. I was surrounded by sorrow, pain, and disappointment. "They are my constants, till today, and maybe forever." I thought. I was shedding tears on the bed, making no noise and fell asleep, in the laps of misery.

I woke up to the footsteps of my doctor. She was walking towards me with reports in her hand, and was escorted by a senior nurse. The nurse was holding a notepad and a pen. I turned to the clock and the time was 4:30 pm. The doctor greeted me good evening before going through the reports.

How are you feeling Neeta?

Better doctor, thank you.

Good. I hope you are taking your medicines on time?

Yes, I am.

You recovered so fast. You will be discharged by tomorrow. Take rest.

The doctor stepped out of the room. “If Aditya is here, he will be very happy to know about his child” I imagined. I was forming a picture of what would happen if he was standing next to me. His loss reduced me to tears. As I was weeping my eyes, I recollected my dads’ words.

May 12, 1995. It was a sunny day. The sun was shining bright. I was sitting alone in the lawn, looking down with disappointment. My dad came to me sipping his coffee. It was my play hour.

What’s the problem dear? Why aren’t you playing with your friends?

I stayed calm. I gave him the impression that I didn’t hear a word. Then he again asked.

Neeta, did someone say anything to you?

At this point, I looked into his eyes. He was waiting for me to speak.

Dad, I am a loser. Everybody hates me.

He was taken aback. Perhaps, he never expected that from me. He asked the reason for my words.

It was the elocution competition. I prepared very well to present my ideas on “I am inspired by…” All the teachers wished me good luck. The moment I went on the dais, I began to mumble. I was trying hard to finish sentences. I couldn’t speak for even a minute. I came down soon, crying.

I told my dad what all happened later. He listened with utmost patience. After a moment of silence, he continued

Beta, there is nothing to worry about. This is your first time on stage. It happens with everyone. It’s okay to mumble.

He was trying to heal me with his words. But, I couldn’t stop crying. At this point he said

Neeta, a princess never cries. Do you know why she is called a princess? Because she never gives up on anything. She strives for it until she reaches the summit. Remember Neeta, you cannot change the past, but the present is always in your hands. Don’t spoil your future by worrying about what happened yesterday.

“Aditya was my past, but my child is my future. I should not ruin my future by worrying about my past.” I said to myself. I can never heal from the loss of my love. At least, I will make sure my child lives a happy life. Maybe, that is what he expects from me.

I never wanted to kill that innocent life, and hence, decided to make a living. I migrated to a new place after the delivery and started finding a job. Owing to my health conditions, I discontinued my bachelors in the final year. I am the only source of income for the two of us. Hence, I started applying for companies. After facing several rejections, I finally found a job to feed me and my daughter. It was arduous to take care of my little one because of my hectic schedule. The pay was good, but not the timings.

A woman noticed my struggle. She said she would take care of my daughter and I can work to feed the family. Initially, I was afraid to put my baby in the hands of an outsider. But in no time, she gained my trust. She lives with me and my daughter even today. She has become a part of our family. In some such way, Days passed, months left and years crossed.

I know how hard it is to lead a life without parents at a very young age. I kept weeping for months for the loss of my parents. There were innumerable sleepless nights and countless moments of suffering. In lucid terms, there was a life of tears, pain, sorrow and darkness. That level of suffering was too much for kids. They don’t deserve that. Hence, I went on to start a Non-Government Organization with part of what I saved.

From then, she never looked back. And rest, everyone knows. Now, the same, old, common girl became the owner of 6 NGOs. She is perfectly managing her job and also running the NGOs. No complaints, no worries, and no regrets. Currently, she very much contends about her living. The same society which once hated her for being NEETA is loving so much today for being the same girl.

(Neeta is referring to herself as third person in the above lines)

Remember, Life is a blood brother to those who enjoy living and is very solid to those who don't. I notice people laugh and cry during their journey of growth. Make a note, Life never shows sympathy on you, neither grudge. It is all our perception. Life is how we accept it and not how we are accepted. This is life, you have to accept it the way it is. One day, it will throw an opportunity at your face. Turn that into your future and you will create history.

(And then she reads this from one of her pages…)

Hi, I am Neeta. A very common girl.

I had no family, no friends, and no neighbors, yet, I am common.

I talked to myself all the time, yet, I am common.

I was molested and raped brutally, yet, I am common.

I gave birth to a baby before marriage, yet, I am common.

“Slut”, “Prostitute” were once my nicknames, yet, I am common.

I had nothing left to survive, yet, I am common.

I had almost prepared to take my last breath, yet, I am common.

“Hey, you! I finished my narration. This is all about my life in brief. A true roller-coaster ride, I would say, for it has all the emotions stacked together. Thank you so much. You were with me, listening to my story all this time. Your life is way different from mine and I know that. We all face problems in our daily life. What makes us different is our approach towards it. As someone rightly said “I don’t lose, either I win or I learn”, let this attitude flow in blood for the rest of your life. Keep striving for what you want, because that’s how you know that you are still alive.”

Yours

Neeta Meher

-URVIDHAR REDDY