Dada's House

I love this house. More than my life.

Hariya brought me here when I was a little girl of five or six. I
didn't know him. Maybe he was my mother's brother. I always thought he
was my father. He wasn't, obviously. I was happy he wasn't. He never
treated me well and always hit me. He vanished soon after he left me
here. And before long I knew this was going to be my home from then on
and no Hariya would return to take me back. I was glad, because I just
loved the house the moment I saw it. It was huge and almost resembled a
palace. Who wouldn't love such a place? Three families lived here, I
learned later.

My new guardian was Deewanji, the eldest of the three brothers who
lived here with him. But for me he was 'Dada'. I liked calling him
that. The other children laughed at the word - they said it meant elder
brother, but I didn't care. I gradually forgot all about Hariya and
that horrible house. Every one was so nice here. Dada was some
important man in the King's palace, they told me. I heard the word
'confidante' a few times. What's confidante? Who knew? And who cared?
Dada loved me and took good care of me. That was all that
mattered.

A few months later, Kamala, the cook's daughter told me I was Dada's
illegitimate child and that's why I was here. I had no idea what that
meant, but nobody talked about it openly. I don't know how she learned
about it. My mother died after giving birth to me, Kamala said. She was
here during her pregnancy. She was called 'choti maa' among the
children, but the grown ups never mentioned her name. I wonder why I
lived with Hariya for more than five years before coming here? I guess
I would never know. Kamala didn't know either. I soon forgot about it.
The mansion was always filled with guests and festivities. There was
always a merry occasion which saw the house in colorful hues. There was
fun, frolic and laughter. A typical joint family and I loved it
immensely.

Dada's wife was 'Badi Maa', a gentle and loving woman. She did not love
me as much, but never ill treated me either. Soon, we both grew to like
each other a lot. Twelve years went by happily until one day tragedy
struck the very roots of the house. Raj Hans, Raj 'Bha' to me, died of
brain fever. He was Dada's eldest son. A pall of gloom settled on the
mansion. The family astrologer told that the house was built on a grave
yard, and that each year, a curse of one of the spirits would take a
life from the house until it was empty, deserted. This shocking fact
silenced everyone.
'What nonsense', Dada said finally. He did not believe in spirits and
such. 'And why my son? Why now? Why hasn't anyone died here earlier?'
The astrologer was quiet. When Dada's volley of questions ended, he
said, 'It is a coincidence, but the curse was to come to effect
whenever a child turned sixteen.' Raj Bha was the eldest son and had
turned sixteen just a week before his death.

No more laughter. No more festivities. It was like all the laughter and
happiness had been turned away at the doorstep. Conversations were
muffled and the house resembled a graveyard with live people.

One day, they decided to abandon the house.
"Let's build our new home by the river, near the palace and the city
area."
Dada would have none of it. "This house belongs to my father. The late
Maharaja, the respected King's father, gifted it to him for his loyalty
and honor. We are not going anywhere." His brothers did not have the
courage to oppose Dada's decision.

The family astrologer was consulted again. Surely there must be a way
out.
"There is," he said. "A sacrificial 'yagna' (holy fire) and a fortnight
of worshipping Lord Shiva. All the spirits have to be appeased."
Dada was reluctant but gave in after Badi Maa persuaded him. "Please.
For me?" After all the family astrologer had said that all would be
well after the sacrifice. And all his predictions in the past had been
good for the house. Dada loved Badi Maa dearly and silently nodded his
head.

The prediction came true, much to his surprise. And when Lakshmi, Raj
Bha's younger sister turned seventeen, the house was drenched in merry
making. The laughter and good times returned. The curse had been
exorcised. I was the happiest.

Years went by. My siblings grew and went out to see the world. But not
me. I had promised Dada that I would always be around to take care of
the house. You see, that night, a week after Raj Bha's death, when the
family astrologer had left, Dada had come to me.
"Beta, please save me and my house from destruction. Your Dada loves
you very much." As he filled me in his arms and wept, I embraced him
back. I promised that I would do anything for him. Anything. He left
silently after holding me tight for a few more minutes. I wondered how
I could save the house. I felt a sense of pride. Dada wanted me to save
the house.

A day before the sacrifice, Kamala told me that only a human sacrifice
could dispel the curse. My hairs stood on end. It took me some time to
get over it. But I loved Dada. He was my everything. If it weren't for
him I would never have had the good fortune of being in such a
beautiful shelter and getting so much love.

'Don't worry Dada, I shall always stay back and take care of the house.
Nothing will ever happen to the happiness of this house' I remember
telling him as the axe fell on my neck that day, 200 years ago.