Chaudhary ji was a very well respected gentleman in this small village. He had huge lands and was reasonably well-off but he was a good man with a heart of gold who would genuinely help his fellow villagers whenever and howsoever he could. That's why they had chosen him as their sarpanch and they trusted his wisdom and relied on his decisions and vision for their village. Although having earned enough to be able to send the kids in his extended family to study at premier schools and colleges in the cities, he himself still worked at the grass root levels, highlighting problems with the authorities and taking initiatives for resolutions wherever he could.
Chaudhary ji's only child, a daughter, had just landed in the village. It was an unusual sight as she alighted from the driver's seat of her car. All the men wearing white had lined up in front gate of the house as well as in the huge verandah of their house. The ladies were cramped at the back with their heads covered in the ghoonghats. They all stood there with folded hands as she walked in pin drop silence and touched her father's feet under the white sheet. Then she moved a little ahead and uncovered his face for a last look. A few tears escaped her eyes under the glare of the whole village.
Soon at the cremation grounds, calls were made for the eldest nephew to step forward. Before he could, she did and announced that she would do the honours. There was a pin drop silence before the murmurs started. Her Chachaji came forward to speak to her but she held up her hand. Nobody could stop her from doing her duties towards her father. She was the family's heir and her gender won't change that. All responsibilities were completed by a petite confident woman dressed in a simple white kurti and jeans in front of the awestruck dhoti-clad audience who dare not say a word.
Three months later, she stepped up again. This time on a pseudo-podium, the village chaupal. The IIM graduate, who had just quit her corporate job of 5 years, stood tall dressed in a simple but beautiful kala cotton Bhujodi saree in varied shades of blue, ready to fit into her father's shoes now as the village sarpanch; ready to give up the comforts of the air-conditioned MNC's office to work in the dirt and grime of the village and complete the unfinished job of her father; ready to prove herself as his true heir.
© Nishtha Khurana, 2019. All rights reserved. The text as well as the pictures are both subject to copyright and are the property of the author. Please do not copy or reproduce without permission.
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