Last week my eyes fell upon a life story full of repentance and confession of guilt in a magazine in "Jeevanko Goretoma" column and stuck for some time. It really touched my heart as his very guilt had crushed my friend Shyam's life and happiness to pieces in fact.
To relate, Shyam fell in love with a tenth grader neighboring girl 11 years back whom he proposed, she reciprocated and both eloped. he managed for her further studies and sent her learn fashion designing course as per her interest paying a hefty sum as fees. His parents also treated her as their own daughter and poured all their love to her. For almost five years time flowed swiftly showering all conjugal bliss to their laps. By that time a cute girl-child had already born to them and the family was enviably a happy lot.
She started working in a boutique and it's then that their happy life took a dramatic twist. As in Shakespearean tragedies ,Purushottam, a 13 year senior to her and a neighbouring person, entered their life as an antagonist as Mrs. Shyam and he had to catch the same bus for their work places. They were often seen together. She treated him brotherly but he had ill-will towards her which she was unaware of. On further acquaintance he always gave her leer. In the course of time a rumour of their affair induced and soon spread like a wildfire. Shyam, descent in character, tried to settle the dust by talks. Calling him up ,he -without any iota of abhorence-said that the rumor is only the figment of people's imagination for their calumny and requested him to act according to the vulnerability and seriousness of the matter in humble words.But he took his simplicity as the license to go further with his heinous act.
A fracas ensued between the spouses and they started living separately. Finally they got divorced.
After wreaking havoc and watching its aftermath, he confessed it through a weekly paper using heavy & remorseful words. He, in the story, has considered himself a sticky louse, a sly wolf, a man-eater tiger and a vampire to mention a few. To quote him he has said-"What should be named me who has spoilt two families, injected Hemlock to the family members, stranded a wife and a mother to far afield, and smothered a child from a mother's love. An assassin? A homicide beast? Or what else? I must be named as an assassin so a mean suicide wouldn't enough to compensate to the entire loss caused solely by me. Therefore, living rest of my life in agony of remorse would be a penance for me. Fie at me! Shame on me!"
He has, though late, confessed but can the glue of his atonement ever rejoin the family relationship and all former happiness in form that had been scattered around into pieces?