Expectant eyes looked for the signal to change, as the guard heralded the arrival of the NewTinsukia express on the crowded platform of the Bangalore station. The hustle was clearly noticeable, as passengers who had been comfortably sitting on the benches, scurried with their luggages in a bid to board the train first. The train was bound for Kolkata, and would take approximately two days to reach the destination. Some people were seen running between compartments to figure out their reservations. One among them was a heavily pregnant young woman with a light luggage, frantically looking for her place. An elderly man came to her rescue as she was led to the general compartment, and seated comfortably between a fray of chattering women, all fighting for the coveted window seat. Seeing the pregnant woman’s condition, the women became uncannily silent for a moment and glanced at each other. A kind old lady, appearing to be a villager, offered her window seat to the woman, which she accepted gratefully. By the time most passengers had settled in, the train pushed ahead on the tracks, unlocking yet another journey.

There appeared to be a look of remoteness in the young woman’s eyes, as others looked at her curiously, in a bid to strike a conversation. But the woman eluded their prying glances, and was tucked away in her secluded corner, by the window. She was travelling alone and this raised a few suspicious comments among the others, although in whispers.

The afternoon was pleasant, as it happened to be the last week of December, and there was an occasional chilly whiff in the air. The train sped past the teeming cityscape and soon enough the silhouette turned into a rural landscape, with the lush countryside in sight. Wide, open pastures offered a peek into the lifestyle of the tireless farming community in the interiors of the land. The young woman had by now drifted off into slumber, when she was shaken out of it, by a hand laid on her shoulder. It happened to be the wizened old lady who had offered her the seat.

“Here child, have a cup of tea with some biscuits! I can see you must have been starving…Not good in this condition at all!” the lady reached out lovingly to her. The young woman was overwhelmed by this gesture, as a tear drop rolled down her cheeks, wetting the old lady’s hand. She meekly took the cup, and managed to look up with a shy “Thank you”.

Few of the other women now looked at her sympathetically, for she seemed to be in a tattered condition. “What’s your name dear?” one of them asked, and she replied “Punya” timidly. “So, you’re travelling alone in this condition? Any emergency?” enquired another woman, as Punya was left scouring for words.

“Such a nice name, dear! Your parents must have been lucky at your birth!” said the old woman, quickly changing the subject.

“Quite the opposite, Amma” came out Punya’s quivering tone, as she mustered enough courage to narrate her tale of horror, while the others queued in to hear.

“I hail from the Vijaynagara district of Karnataka” a few concerned eyebrows were raised at this. Punya’s eyes grew misty as she turned the pages of her past life. “I can understand what most of you must be thinking at the mention of my birthplace. For those of you who are unaware, Vijaynagara was once notorious for the practice of the Devadasi system, which has actually been extricated from India legally, some 40 years back. Yet some lustful, greedy mongers have kept it alive in our district, shackling poor, underprivileged women under its horrific shadow!” Punya shivered with terror at the recollection and gulped a sip of water to quench her parched throat.

“Although I belong to the minority, scheduled caste, my family had never been subjugated through the Devadasi system, by God’s merciful grace. My father was a poor peasant, who worked laboriously under the rich landlords of the district. My mother spent her days in raising her four daughters, and never complained not having a son. She protected us from the nastiness of the world, and even got my three older sisters married off decently.”

“Oh! So you must be the youngest one!” enquired a lady, her curiosity out of bounds.

“Indeed, so!” replied Punya. “By the time I was about 10 years old, my father had got bedridden with an untreatable illness, and our family’s condition was dire. It was at this time that I happened to visit the nearby village temple with my mother, to offer prayers for my father’s recovery.”

“And the temple priest set his eyes on you, isn’t it? What a shame!” cried out a woman resentfully.

Punya nodded in agreement, looking down, while old Amma patted her consolingly.

“These men, I tell you! Beasts in disguise!” another woman exclaimed.

“The priest,who appeared as a divine presence to the world, duped my innocent mother to believe that all our problems would be resolved, if she sacrificed me to this Devadasi racket.”

“On turning 12, I was betrothed to this exploitative system, without an ounce of knowledge of how it worked!” Punya sobbed uncontrollably while the others let out murmurs of sympathy. The only solace at that time was that I would officially be a Devadasi when I turned 18.”

Amma let out a deep sigh as she made a remark, “Those characterless wretches are the ones society looks up to! I can imagine your plight, dear!”

Punya rested her head on Amma’s shoulder, finding a motherly familiarity in her touch, as Amma wiped away her tears.

“You’re indeed a brave girl, Punya, to have made the decision of retaining your pregnancy despite all odds!” quipped another woman in the crowd.

Punya continued “My only choice was to be strong in the face of adversity. I had fallen in love with the man who impregnated me, with promises of a better tomorrow, away from the village which had brought about this insinuation upon me.”

“It was too late when I realised that he was a married man with family and children and had devoured me for his lust. He threatened to kill my infant, if I didn’t abort immediately!”

“But I thought the growing foetus was my own flesh and blood, and at no cost would I lose it to this ruthless world! So, one night I left the village for good, with the little jewellery that my mother had kept for my wedding, before this nightmare ensnared us.”

“I don’t know where I’m headed. All I know is that God will show the way!”

“Even after all this turmoil, you believe in God!” exclaimed two other ladies.

“Faith keeps the soul alive and hope gives it wings” said wise Amma, resting a hand on Punya’s head.

It was evening and the glowing dusk was casting its long shadows on the rustic background. The train was speeding ahead, while the carriages rattled occasionally, on the tracks, jerking the passengers. The jerks continued for a while, and the women had retired to rest at their respective places. Punya looked tired and a bit uneasy, which Amma was the first one to notice.

Punya complained of a dull ache in her abdomen, similar to menstrual cramps. Observant Amma immediately sounded an alarm in the compartment that Punya was getting labour pains and the women should be ready for an exigency! Alas! There was no doctor on board, but Amma smiled reassuringly “What did women do in earlier times, when babies were delivered at home? Don’t you all remember the concept of midwives?”

The women looked nervously at Amma, as she consoled Punya, whose pain had heightened by now. The situation was tense but the ladies started preparing for what was to come, ready to lend a helping hand, when needed. All the men travelling in the coach were requested to shift to the other end, while the women informed the attendents in the wagon to get ready with the deliverables including fresh towels and sheets. Punya’s pain worsened over time as the train jerked now and then, with the approaching twilight. Amma’s faith kept worry at bay, as she started chanting holy hymns, considered to be auspicious and a harbinger of good news. Punya was made to lie down straight on the emptied bench, with lots of bed linen and pillows to support her frail body.

The night was dark, though clear, and occasional fireflies glittered in the ebony sky. Amma was like a godsend for Punya, as she kept holding her hand while the latter stroked her head soothingly. Sleep evaded everyone in the coach that night, while the women waited in anticipation. Through a long and arduous labour, the ladies were supportive and displayed unified courage in the face of this emergency.

Finally the anguish gave way to light, as dawn unveiled the first streak of illumination. The fresh morning air was chilly, yet refreshing, when Amma exclaimed with joy, as she held the wailing newborn “It’s a baby boy!” Warm greetings ran through the entire compartment, as though all belonged to a single family. Tears of joy rolled down, as the women embraced each other to celebrate the momentous occasion.

Exhausted from the long labour, Punya lay in a semi-conscious state, while Amma attended to her needs, with the baby in tow. The train reached Kolkata station by late evening, and kind, old Amma offered to take Punya to her widowed sister’s place, whom she had come to visit in Kolkata. Punya was hesitant at first, but she could not refuse Amma’s honest appeal, and thus abided by her. Through the bustling streets of Kolkata, they finally made way to reach the modest abode of Amma’s younger sister Maya.

Maya lived alone in a rather dilapidated cottage in North Kolkata, which was her late husband’s last possession. On seeing the three of them at her doorstep she let out an exasperated cry, “Oh my! Look who’s come visiting here! That too on Christmas day!” She cradled the baby warmly, after Amma narrated Punya’s story, and the baby was named “Jishu”, an ode to Jesus, which translates to ‘Jihsu’ in Bangla. Punya couldn’t swallow her emotions, and was overcome with unbound joy at this warm welcome. Though weak in body, her spirit resounded with a newfound hope at the turn of events in her piteous life.

Both Amma and her sister Maya were compassionate souls and treated Punya as their own daughter. In their lonely life, Punya and Jishu had brought a new meaning and purpose, and both the women left no stone unturned to provide them the best care. Occasionally, Punya , who was still recouping, would wake up in a sweat in the middle of the night, reliving her traumatic past. At such times, little Jishu’s touch along with Amma and Maya’s unwavering support gave her the much needed strength.

Maya ran a small food joint, at the corner of the street, where she catered to the office goers , who would grab a quick meal on their way to work, or while returning home in the evening. She had a few helping hands, and this was her source of sustenance.

One day when Maya was back from work, while Punya was feeding the baby, she asked “Maya di, It is nearly going to be a month that I’ve been your guest here…I really want to contribute in my own small way, so, I was thinking of joining your eatery as a cook. Believe me, I can cook decently!” Amma looked at Punya with a stern glance, “What is the hurry? Your baby is still weaning, and besides I have other plans for you.” Suddenly Punya’s face lost colour, for she had never seen Amma so cold towards her. “ Wh..What plans Amma?” she asked timidly, while both Maya and Amma broke into a laughter, much to her surprise.

“Poor child! She literally got scared!” laughed Amma. “Punya, its been quite a while that you have been acquainted with me, yet you never bothered to learn about my identity…as in my own family and where I come from…” “Amma, don’t get me wrong, but I trusted you fully, and still do…You’ve been more than a mother to me and I have a firm faith that our meeting was transpired by some divine intervention!” “My dear innocent child, now, if I tell you that I hail from Pondicherry, bordering Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu, and I’m a staunch follower of Sri Aurobindo and the holy Mother, what would you say? Have you heard of them?” Punya shook her head ignorantly, but the gleam in her eyes spoke about her desire to know more. Amma offered Punya two slim books to read, about the life of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother , and how Auroville was established. Teary eyed Punya told Amma “But I can only read and write in Kannada!” “Don’t trouble your mind on that, my dear! I shall translate it for you in Hindi.” Punya was consoled at this, as she could understand Hindi, though in bits and parts.

Thus, while Punya rocked her baby Jishu, Amma narrated to her about the life of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother, and how their teachings had enlightened millions across India and the world. Punya listened with utmost fascination, and was happy at how her life was unfolding in a new direction. In the meanwhile Amma revealed all about her own family to Punya. Born and brought up in Andhra Pradesh, Amma’s hometown bordered Tamil Nadu. Her family belonged to a fisherman’s clan, and fishing was their main livelihood. After a lot of opposition from the family, she was finally allowed to marry her childhood sweetheart, a man from the neighbouring village of fishermen. Her husband was a devout Christian, while Amma being a Hindi girl, was ostracized in their society after marriage. However, through all impending storms, he stood like a rock beside Amma. Soon after the birth of her son, she lost her dear husband to an accident by the sea, at a very young age. From then on, she moved to Pondicherry with her son, and started a living through a small bakery, which she managed singlehandedly.

“Where is your son now, Amma?” enquired Punya curiously, at which Amma let out a sigh, saying, “The ways of the world are unique, my dear! My son married a foreign girl, and went abroad. He has never looked back, since. But see now, I found a loving daughter in you! Will you come with me to Pondicherry?”

Punya was dumbfounded, but her expression said it all.

By the end of two months at Maya di’s residence,Punya and Amma were all set to undertake their journey to Pondicherry with little Jishu in tow. After bidding a tearful goodbye to Maya, they boarded the train from Howrah station ,bound for Pondicherry, and a new life. Pondicherry greeted Punya with arms flung open to its scenic locales and mesmerising coastline. The unhurried, calm pace of the island city gave Punya a new lease of life, where she spent her days with Amma, and bringing up Jishu, away from the shadows of her past life. Punya rejoiced becoming the best version of herself, engrossed in spiritual learnings, which she passed on to her son, and later went on to become a spiritual guide at the Auroville, Matri Mandir.

Punya’s life became a testimony that every moment can be a miracle for those who believe.