Dusk over the mustard fields by Ranjit Powar

Imagine a small village in Punjab in the pre-independence era. The intermingling of religions and customs, the bonds of brotherhood spanning across generations, and the fields of mustard swaying with the wind. Imagine festivals being celebrated without much focus on whether they're according to Hindu traditions or those of Sikhs, imagine food being prepared in a Muslim household to celebrate a festival across the village. Imagine Sikh men promising to fight for their Muslim neighbours with everything in their might when the goons come knocking, imagine women consoling and hiding jewellery of their neighbours so that they can claim it all back when they come back 'home'.

Now imagine a girl of sixteen, daughter to a Zaildar (who only has two daughters) married into a wealthy family a few towns away. She's mesmerized by the prospect of a fauji husband who's going to take her to a city, make her live the life of a memsahib. Now imagine her horror and her humiliation when the fauji husband couldn't care less about her feelings and dreams, when her sole purpose of being a married woman was to produce an heir, and the lack thereof results in her return to the village again, only to be exploited by one and all present in the household. That's Nimmo's story. The pain and the sufferings she endured weren't something I was unaware of, but reading it still tore through me. It reminded me of terms like honour, obedience, progeny, discipline, and rules, and how they're made for and applied to only women. When the onus of it all is on 16 year old shoulders of a girl who couldn't wrap her head around the 'niyat' and 'amal' of everyone she held dear, that's when you realize what helplessness feels like, what betrayal feels like.

The story has much more and it's all disturbing. There are few parts that made my heart flutter with joy and trust me when I say this, all the pain was worth it. :')

Ranjit Powar is an author I will never be able to recommend enough. Her writing is simple, poignant, and hits you right where it should. Suffice to say, Hari gifted me a gem. ❤️