Although, the postman brought smiles on the face of the people wherever he went, whenever he brought a “Telegram”, the news used to spread in the entire village like wild fire. IT was a common understanding that the telegram would bring some bad news only. As no one could read, putting out the content of the telegram to the receivers was a tough task for postman. Once it was the news of death of a man from a nearby family who was with British Indian Army. Poor “Dakiya Bhaiya” was beaten by the family members for bringing such a bad news. Poor man had to be off duty for three days nursing his bruises. Whole village was in mourning for several days and it was difficult to stand sight of the widow with three little children. She had not seen much of her husband since her marriage as the man was mostly out on duty in barracks. The loss of social security and a stigma of being a widow was a big burden for her to carry for rest of her life. In those times, widows were distained to lead a secluded and lonely life. Remarriage was unheard of as social taboos were too big for any one to even talk of it.

My father recalled an incident when “chicken pox” hit the village. People were more prepared for diseases like malaria as it was common and the town of Gorakhpur nearby had a hospital which had a medication for this. But, chicken-pox took the poor villagers by surprise. No one knew how it started but boils on the body of several able bodied men and high fever took the tool very fast. In matter of few days more than twenty families had death and many more sick. My father distinctly remembered the girl named “Jharia” who was very fair and beautiful. Her marriage was fixed for next spring season in a nearby village. She lost of vision to this dreaded disease and her face was badly damaged. Her marriage was put off indefinitely. It was sheer luck that none of my father’s family could get this disease. However by the end of the season, the village was deserted with several of the men folk either dead or had lost their eyesight to this disease.

It was immediately after this that widows in the village got some respect. Their number increased and they became the bread winner for their families where there was no option. They no longer confined themselves to their mud houses but came out to work in the fields and rear cattle. After all, they had to fend for themselves and their children without much help. Although, widows were not allowed to mix with the rest of the men and women folk in the village earlier, they got more acceptance and dignity within their society. My father recalls, the first remarriage of a widow in the village when the young girl having lost her husband to chicken-pox married another man of nearby village. It was a revolution and an example which changed the social stigma of being a widow in such a conservative village to progressive thinking. The credit of this change went to the elderly widow “Mai” (Mother like) who had herself seen loneliness all her life due to being widow but was determined not to let this happen to others. In my father’s word, she was the real “Mathama Gandhi” for him and inspired him to think and question everything which otherwise was accepted without question.