SHE was standing alone, inside the badly lit store, sipping a soft drink. It was late in the evening. “Nothing cold at home?” I joked, knowing she lived just above the shop. “He locked the fridge,” she said. “I’m sorry,” I said, as she sipped the remainder of the drink and paid the shop man. “Tell me,” she said, “how long can I take this, won’t I ever be happy?”
I looked at her and felt sad. Hers was a bad marriage with a husband who abused her physically and mentally. He was neither a drunkard nor a womanizer, he just loved to taunt, and the fights continued night and day. “Come home tomorrow morning,” I told her,” and I’ll introduce you to two very happy women!” She came home the next day, just before I went about my writing. “Where are those happy women?” she asked. I pulled out two photographs and showed them to her. She looked at the first; it was taken at a picnic and showed a group of women laughing at the camera. “Who d’you think is the happiest?” I asked. “They all look happy but the one in the centre is smiling with her eyes. She looks so cheerful.”
“She is,” I said. “Lucky woman,” “Lucky?” I asked. “That woman returned that same evening from the picnic to an alcoholic husband, who threatened her with a knife for money for his drink!” “I can’t believe it. She looks so happy.” “Now look at this snap,” I said, showing her a family group. Is there a happy person there?”
“There’s something wrong with the man,” she said. “He’s under psychiatric treatment,” I said, “He worked in the mills and lost his job eight years ago, the same year he lost his father, he is now under severe depression and has to be looked after night and day by his wife and daughter. That’s his wife by his side.” “She’s smiling. She must be mad! What with such trouble?”
I smiled. “Both those women were in hopeless situations,” I said, “and had faces as long as the face you have.” “Then what happened?” she whispered. “They met a friend..!” “Some friend if they can be so happy!”
“A friend who is now with them night and day as they deal with alcoholic husbands and psychiatric disorders. Someone who holds their hand while a drunkard tries to manhandle them, or gives them inner peace when a mentally ill husband gets disturbed. A friend who gives them total calm in the middle of stormy scenes and strength to face the next.”
“Can this friend give me same joy?” “Give Him a call,” I said, “He’s just a prayer away, and one more thing.” “What?” she asked with a smile. “Let me add your photo to my file once you’ve become friends. There are many others who need to be introduced to Him..!”
