Number thirteen

Yasmin JALDIN

Mariam lived in a remote village with three of her siblings. Her parents were farmers and their source of livelihood was cultivation. She was the eldest of the four with two younger sisters and a brother.

Every morn, the parents would go to the field and return late in the evening entrusting Mariam to look after the household. In the village the family resided, girls were sent to school only up to the fifth standard and thereafter taught to sew, cook and be occupied in all household chores.

As was the custom, young girls were married off at an early age and that too proposed marriages from the neighbouring villages. At the tender age of eighteen, Mariam was betrothed to Ansar a lad of twenty-six who himself was a farmer. As part of dowry, half an acre of paddy land was given to the son-in-law.

The couple led a peaceful life in their little cottage built by Ansar. Even though she was busy with all the household chores, it did not deter Mariam to assist her husband in the paddy fields too. Ansar was a hardworking farmer and in no time was successful to buy another plot of land which enabled a few persons to find employment to work in his fields.

By and by, the young couple was blessed with an addition to their family. Thereafter by the age of thirty-two, Mariam had twelve children, six sons and six daughters. It was customary for all children of the village to be delivered at home and ninety-nine percent of them were quite healthy. After the birth of her twelfth child, and a spell of three years, Mariam was once again in the family way, she was pregnant with her thirteenth child. This time the midwife advised that her confinement should be in the district hospital since she was weak. On the day of her departure to the hospital, Mariam kissed her children and bade them all good-bye promising she would return soon entrusting her two elder daughters to look after their other brothers and sisters. Their wails she was unable to bear. Unfortunately, the cries of a distant gecko was heard when Mariam was about to leave the house. Little did she realise that this was a bad omen. Not being superstitious, Ansar skipped the saying. Being the first time she had left her children and home, the grief was unbearable to Mariam that her sobbing did not decrease until she reached the hospital. The wails of her children kept ringing in her ears all the way through. Her last words to her husband was, ‘Ansar look after the children well, do not hurt or scold them, I shall be with them always’ she said. Alas, the following day when Ansar arrived at the hospital the sad news he received was unbearable. Mariam had passed away of a difficult delivery and the baby was stillborn. Ansar’s grief was inconsolable; he had lost his beloved wife. He mourned her death for many years.

For six long years, Ansar was saddled with bringing up his twelve children. Often his parents coaxed him to re-marry, so that someone could look after the family and ease his burdens, his reply was ‘no’. One day, the matchmaker brought a proposal, whereby the said woman was a divorcee, shunned for being barren.

She looked kind hearted and liked Ansar’s little children who looked at her pleadingly. With the blessings of his parents, he consented to re-marry. The children got on well with their new stepmother with no ill feelings. Alas, when the three elder girls reached adolescence, the stepmother resented their beauty.

They looked the picture of Mariam. Ansar loved the children more and would often say that his late wife had re-appeared amongst them. The new wife secretly hated the late Mariam for being a beauty. She quietly began to ill-treat the girls. She burdened them with all the household chores and reprimanded them for a slightest lack.

She also resorted by carrying tales to Ansar when he returned from work and quite often he punished them. Every night, before retiring to bed, the children would pray for a long time telling their woes to their dead mother.

One day, the eldest girl was plagued with a mysterious fever. Doctors were called in but the malady was undiagnosed. She passed away. Once forty days was completed after the bereavement, the second girl too was inflicted with the same fever and she too passed away. It so happened that the third girl too was battling for life with the mysterious illness.

That night, Ansar had a very bad dream. At first he saw a smiling Mariam shrouded in a crimson garb, her favourite colour she had said which Ansar had presented her on their wedding day; stand before him huddling all the twelve children and the second was a wicked Mariam shrouded in a white garb with disheveled hair pointing a finger at him: “Ansar,” she said, “you have failed and not kept your promise, you are ill-treating our children, send away your other wife, or else you will be punished,” she screamed. He was baffled with Mariam’s apparition, He had loved his dead wife dearly and had only one dream of her before her fortieth day and that was a smiling Mariam holding his hand. Today, his dream was different and frightening.

He was in two worlds. Not relating his dream to anyone, he thought he would peacefully annul the marriage on grounds of Fareeda’s bad behaviour and send her back to her village in Kalmunai. His quick reaction saved more disasters and his third child recovered miraculously in a few days.