There was a little boy – the youngest in the family – growing up in a huge house, with a busy doctor father, and a proud and somewhat indifferent mother. His mother had kind of handed him over to her widowed sister, who had taken shelter in her house after her rich and debauch husband passed away, leaving her in the lurch, childless and desolate. The widow embraced this little boy as a gift against all her lost children. Her husband’s waywardness and debauchery had ensured that she carried full term and gave birth to stillborn children. The little boy lapped up the attention and affection that his aunt showered on him. His mother had scant time for him or any other children; she was busy managing a large household, and playing nurse and companion to her much respected doctor husband.
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>Amazing women in my life (part 3) – the story of J
>J was born into a trading community in undivided Bengal. She grew up with a unstable mother, a nervous father and five or six siblings. As was the custom in her community, she was married off quite early to a man twelve years older to her in the same community. Barely did she attain puberty, she was pregnant with a child and from this point on, her life took an altogether different turn. Her mother and her husband both died suddenly in an attack of small pox, which those days was endemic; J flabbergasted by this turn of events, lost her mind and was locked up in a room probably under advice from the local medico. She gave birth to her daughter but could not look after the daughter due to her illness and her mother in law looked after the infant. It is not known to me for how long J lived in that hazy, misty world of hers, for
read more >Amazing women in my life (part 3) – the story of J
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