p. 122 | FOUR LITTLE WIDOWS

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Dec 25, 1893

FOUR LITTLE WIDOWS.

A HELPER in Pundita Ramabai’s Widows’ Home at Poona overheard the following conversation between four of these children, for, though called widows, they are only from ten to twelve years of age.

We are sure our young friends will be sorry to hear how sadly they had suffered, and be thankful that these are now in a happy home, and receiving a good education under a kind and clever Indian Christian lady; but they must remember that thousands of these little widows are being as cruelly treated still. Will they not pray that God will raise up friends for them?

The lady had been asleep and was awakened by the voices of these children, and this is what she heard them say:—

Vitto—I was a mere baby when I was married. We do not look like wives, do we? Yet people call me a "widow," "unlucky," and say I have killed my husband.

Chanda—I am also a widow, because my parents say so; but what is the meaning of it I do not understand. They say I shall have to suffer much as I grow older. No one will love me, because I killed and swallowed my husband; but I never saw him; I do not know who he was. Since I am come to this school, all the teachers love me; they try to make me happy, and they never say unkind words to me or think I am unlucky.

Vitto—Prya, tell us something about yourself.

Prya—What shall I say? I can say one thing, that is, I was miserable, sad, and now I am happy.

Sundri—Prya, let us hear your history, and I will tell mine.

Prya—My father knew I would be a widow, but he purposely gave me in marriage.

All the girls—Prya, Prya, do not say so. How could he know what was in the future?

Vitto—Well, sometimes parents do it for the sake of money. Do you know the story of one girl who was here in the school, and was obliged to leave it for her ignorant people’s sake? The poor thing was married when she was five years old. She was given to a man of fifty for one hundred rupees. She went to her mother-in-law’s house. Within a year the miserable man died, leaving behind him a widow six years old. Don’t you think her parents must have had sense enough to know that such a small child given to an old man would become a widow? But they want money, or they do it when they are tired of their daughter. [All looked very solemn and sad.]

Chanda—And also you must have heard of her sufferings; her mother-in-law, brother-in-law, and sister-in-law made her work the whole day. The poor girl was abused all the time, and was pinched and thrashed if she made a slight mistake, and was even burnt on her hands, feet, and face with a red-hot iron. When she was ten or twelve years old the cruel people shaved her head and disfigured her.

Sundri—Did they really shave her? Then her intense suffering must have begun at an early age.

Chanda—Yes, it did commence. Once she told me that she used to work and cook from five in the morning till ten or twelve at night. She had no bed to sleep on, a coarse dress, and got food only once a day; often she was starved and tired, but no one noticed her. She shed bitter tears as she told about it.

Prya—You will get thousands of cases like that. I will tell you my history. My mother died when I was nine months old; one of her friends took care of me after her death. When I was only two years and six months old my father wanted me to be married. Then he asked a fortune teller [a Hindu custom], who said that if I were to be married now I should be a widow. I ought not to be married till I was ten. But my father gave me in marriage to a little boy, who died six months after, when I was three. My mother’s friend took care of me till I was six years old, then my father brought me to Bombay. I lived with him four years, cooked for myself, and was very unhappy. My father was a strict Hindu, and did not love me, because I was a widow. My mother’s uncle, seeing my miserable state, put me in this school. My father did not like it, so came to Poona to fetch me out, but was taken ill. I went to see him; he said he wanted to see my head shaved and disfigured [after which the intense suffering always begins]. I began to cry; he would have done it and ruined me, but he died soon, and I was free.

Vitto—I will not call myself a widow, because my husband did not die a natural death; he fell into a well and died.

The others—We also are not widows, though our husbands fell sick and died; we did not see them, so, after our studies are over, if we wish, we shall marry again.

Prya—Now, Sundri, do tell us your story.

Sundri—I was married when I was five years old. Now and then I used to go to my mother-in-law’s house, but my mother’s house was far away, so I did not go very often. When I was ten my husband died, and I was called widow and unlucky. My mother cried bitterly. My good brother, who used to love me very much, sent me to this school at once, and says he will let me stay till I pass my examination.

All together—How nice that this school is opened for us! At home we used to suffer, but now we are happy like the birds. Everyone loves us here.

Saying this the happy group began to laugh and dance, and ran away to play.—Bombay Guardian.