Story - The witness - 1st part

Squirming, from the vantage point from where I could see everything, I wanted to stop her. 

Using one of  the hand carved rails of my canopy, I wanted to throw the whole thing down before she could say, 'yes'; but I couldn't, as I could never hurt her. As it was no guarantee that the canopy would fall on him, the man trying to persuade her, and not at her, my frail Babli.  I was looking at her with all my love and annoyance at the same time, thinking, 

"Why oh why, why doesn't she see, what he was doing, what he was getting her to do?"  

She had always been delicate, not that she didn't have enough flesh on her bones, but it were her bones, that were the ones so light, paper like, making her a paper machine doll. 

The first night, when she had come in the room, in her bridal attire, I had fallen head over heals in love. 

It didn't matter who she was waiting for, and who would be sharing the saffron laced milk in the silver glass with her that night, I was just thrilled that she would be mine from now on, to see, to feel, to touch, and to take in my arms when she slept.   

My Babli!! 

And afterwards, she had talked to me, whispering into the pillow, telling me, how happy she was. 

And sighing with relief, I had taken her frail body in my arms, and she had slept in peace. 

And next few years had passed blissfully. She had a happy life, as she enjoyed taking care of the needs of her husband and her household, doing chores needed, to be done each day, to keep the family comfortable, cooking, cleaning, supervising those who came to help her with these. 

She was very neat, almost religiously clean, and loved to change the sheets and pillow covers almost each day. 

And I loved that. 

Then her first child, her son was born, and then her daughter, and then her youngest child, another son, they were all born right there in front of my eyes, and each time, I had helped to heal her, get better, get stronger.

Day by day, my love for her had grown, reaching that extreme, where I could read her feeling from the way she touched me, if she was happy or unhappy, angry, or miserable, no matter what mood she was in, I soothed her, and was always able to make her sleep. 

That time, when the oldest was sick, really sick, I had watched her, praying for his recovery. She had not eaten anything till the little boy had opened his eyes and taken his bottle.

I had sighed with relief, when she had finally left the boy in his crib to come to me.  

And today, the same boy was forcing her to do, what she didn't want to, I could feel her unhappiness, and helplessness in my bones. 

But it was she, who had to refuse, if she didn't want to sign the paper. 

I couldn't do anything. 

I was just the witness!!