Mhaisal - a village, on the banks of the river Krishna, is in Sangli district of the western state of Maharashtra. Being on the boundary between Karnataka and Maharashtra, it is a confluence of cultures, languages and religions. Though the official language is Marathi, almost seventy percent of the population is bi-lingual. The highway to Bijapur and Belgaum, passes through the village. Agriculture is the main occupation, with sugar-cane, and grapes being the most important crops. Mhaisalkars are lovers of festivals, which are celebrated all year round with fervor and gaiety. (Map)
It is fortuitous that not only do I hail from Mhaisal, but chose, to spend my life here.


Sunday, March 30, 2008

Till Death Do Us Part!!



This morning on my usual walk, I came across the small "Mhasoba" shrine on the way. I was reminded of an incident which took place a year ago at this very place.

That morning I had set out a little earlier than usual. Though the visibility was low, I could easily discern objects. This stretch of road is uninhabited, with an occasional farmer or labourer crossing my path. I love the solitude as it gives me the opportunity to be with myself. As I came up to the shrine, I saw a moped parked just near the step. A couple of pair of sandals had also been left there. I distinctly remember wondering as to who should have come to the shrine at that early an hour, specially as no one was in sight. I thought maybe the couple had gone to have a dip in the reservoir nearby, and proceeded on my walk. On my way back, it was fairly bright, while at the same spot, I heard a sound of muted wails, my dogs accompanying me, started barking in frenzy. I could not help but walk in the direction of the sound, and Lo! just behind the shrine, a young couple was lying in the slush. The man was stiff and obviously dead, but the women was gasping. I turned her over to find that her pupils were dilated and she had froth around her mouth. There was a half empty can of insecticide near the place. I, immediately called the police from my cellphone. I also phoned up my driver to get the car, which arrived before the police. With the help of some passers by, we managed to put her in the car. We took her to Sangli Civil Hospital, as this was a medico-legal case which no private medical practitioner would touch. In spite of every effort to save her, the women did not regain her consciousness, and succumbed to the poison a few days later.
During the police investigations, a diary was recovered near the place, the man had written, that no one should be blamed for their suicide. Bit by bit the whole story came out.
The young man had settled in Mhaisal since the past six years. He was staying with his mother, wife and two children. He was a competent mechanic and was an expert of sorts, in the fabrication of "boats" required for the extraction of sand from the river bed. The young women, hailed from Pandharpur, and came from a decent family. Unfortunately she had a very troubled marriage, and had run away from her drunkard husband, who would incessantly torture her. She too had made Mhaisal her home. Initially she tried to sustain herself by working in the farms, but soon she fell prey to the nefarious designs of her employer. After some time she was again discarded. At this juncture she met our mechanic lad, and the couple fell madly in love. Soon both of them realised that society in general and his family in particular, would not accept their living together. They felt, they could find bliss in death, which they could not hope to attain in life. This had prompted them to take the extreme step.
I don't know what happens when people die, but at least they are relieved from the bondage that life is all about.