The Iron Bell

“Gather around everyone! Come to the bazaar! The respected chieftain has an announcement to make,” cried a man. As throngs of villagers formed at the front of the bazaar, it quickly became evident that someone was going to be the subject of public condemnation. Society in the village of Malana functioned on a basis of punishment and fear, and no one in the village was an exception to this system. Those who went against the grain and violated the edicts issued by the village panchayat were punished so severely that they never dared to break the law again. On this specific occasion, rumors circulated among those that had gathered that one of the members of the Sudra caste had been exposed for having an intimate relationship with a member of the Kshatriya social elite. As the crowd quieted down and waited for the village chieftain to give his speech, the shrill noise of a crying child pierced through the air and echoed off the walls of the surrounding buildings. Gasps and whispers rippled through the crowd as everyone wondered whose child was crying. 

“Not only is that Sudra having an affair, but she probably also had a child with that Kshatriya!” declared one man. 

“Bring out that cursed being and reveal their identity once and for all!” another clamored.

Such an extreme case was this, that it was quite difficult to fathom how severe a punishment the panchayat would dole out to the rule-breakers. After a few minutes, Khambhoji Sir, the village chieftain, stepped onto the pedestal at the center of the bazaar. Flanking him on both sides were a guard and his most trusted advisor, Guruji, the village priest. 

“My fellow residents of Malana,” Khambhoji began in his booming baritone voice. “I have called this meeting into session today to discuss a very troubling issue that has befallen us. As you may know, the village panchayat has made it very clear that the laws of Malana are not meant to be broken for they are the rules that keep our society in order and bring the Gods’ blessings upon us. When a member of our community violates any of those laws, they are not only disrespecting the authority of my council, but they are also against the will of God! This my friends, will not be tolerated, and so I come before you today to request punishment for the criminal scum that we have apprehended.”

A cheer erupted from the crowd. 

“Silence!” Khambhoji boomed. “Bring her out and let the people decide this criminal’s fate.”

A few seconds later, two guards appeared with a woman holding a child in her arms and proceeded to the base of the pedestal where Khambhoji stood. People at the back strained to see who the criminal was, but those at the front immediately identified the woman to be Mari and the child as her daughter, Di. One of Khambhoji’s guards took out a scroll and began to read from it. 

“Today, citizen Mari and her daughter Di stand before the village of Malana to receive its verdict for their crime of violating the caste assignment edicts by having relations with a member of the Kshatriya caste. Furthermore, it is suspected that the child is the result of this illegal affair.”

There was utter silence as the villagers found themselves dumbfounded by the news they were hearing. 

“It comes down to the people of Malana,” the guard continued, “to decide what form of punishment Mari should experience to atone for her sin.” 

The gathered crowd erupted in curses and shouts of outrage. 

“Burn her house down!” someone yelled. 

“Banish them to the forest!” quipped another. 

After much debate, it was decided that Mari and Di’s house, as well as their belongings, would be burned in a bonfire and they would be forced to wear an iron bell around their necks that would ring everywhere they went, thus notifying the residents of Malana of their presence. 

As Mari and Di slowly trudged back to their hut, they suddenly heard someone calling to them. 

“Pssst! Hey Mari!, Over here!” the voice hissed. 

Startled and confused, Mari ushered Di on and went to see who was calling her name. 

“Bye Mother! I hope you are not talking to another man,” Di giggled before skipping away towards home.

Slightly annoyed, Mari pretended not to hear what Di said and walked to a corner of the bazaar where a hooded individual stood. As she approached, the person stepped back and frantically gestured for her not to follow. 

“That’s a good distance. Stop right there!” they whispered. 

“Your voice sounds familiar; who are you?” Mari pressed. 

“It’s Araav… ” the person responded, “and it’s best if we are not seen together in public especially with the current situation in hand.”

“So why do you want to talk Araav?” Mari asked.

“It’s complicated, but I just wanted to make sure you have no intention of telling the panchayat of my involvement,” he replied nervously.

“I have no intention of doing so, ” Mari responded, still confused as to why Araav would ask. 

“Good, Good, Good,” he said, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief. “I just didn’t want any of these matters to interfere with plans for my…er… I mean our future.”

“Sure… our plans,” Mari said hesitantly. 

“Don’t worry about all the trouble you have put yourself in Mari. In a few years, my father will give me ownership of the family trade business, and then you and I can move out of this wretched village and travel the world.”

“My trouble?! What do you mean… years?” Mari said, raising her voice. 

“Shh! Shh!” Araav hissed. “Someone might hear us.”

“No, how can you say that?” Mari said, raising her voice. “This problem is yours as much as--,” but before she could finish, Araav quickly slunk away and disappeared into the shadows. 

As Mari trudged home, through the deserted streets, she thought about the implications of the punishment that had been doled out to her. Where would Di and her live? How would she provide for Di if no one would hire her? 

“How could you be so stupid and have a relationship with Araav?” she scolded herself. “You know that Kshatriya and the Sudras were never meant to mingle.”

As more questions and frustrating thoughts bombarded her, the blue sky darkened into a murky and depressing grey as clouds formed and it began to drizzle. 

After reaching their hut on the outskirts of the village, Mari called Di inside and began to pack what little belongings they owned into a trunk Mari kept at the back of the hut. 

“Mother, why do we have to pack all my dolls?” Di asked innocently. “I only use them to fight and do not like them anyway.”

 Mari was puzzled as to why Di would want to throw away her dolls, but she said nothing, not wanting to prolong the conversation. 

“How are we going to manage without our hut,” Di asked.

“Don’t worry about that”, Mari replied quickly. “I’m sure Guruji will let us stay at the temple until the situation gets better. Besides, it's only a matter of time before a friend of mine helps us resettle in a different town.”

After packing all their belongings and drinking some leftover rice porridge, Mari and Di spread some dried palm leaves on the earthen floor of their hut and dozed off wondering what the following day would have in store for them.

Early the next morning, Mari was jolted awake by the sound of someone banging on the front door. The sun had not even risen yet, but the banging was only getting louder by the minute, so Mari quickly answered. She opened the door to find two panchayat guards standing at attention outside and one of them took out a red paper card and began to read. 

“Mari, you and your daughter must now serve your punishment for breaking the laws of the village. Hand over the keys to your house and put this necklace on.” 

The guard pulled out a crimson-colored thread with an iron bell suspended by it. 

“This bell will alert everyone of your presence and warn them not to come close to adulterers like you.” 

Summoning up all her courage while fighting back the rage that was beginning to form in her, Mari smiled and nodded her head unfazed. After the guards marched off, Mari woke up Di, got the trunk with all their possessions, and went straight to the village temple where she began to furiously pray to the gods to forgive her of all the crimes she had been convicted of. As she prayed, Mari could hear the cries and shouts of villagers as they burnt her hut to the ground. Tears filled her eyes and she began to quietly sob as the smell of smoke filled her nostrils. As Mari sat there praying and crying to herself, she was a bit startled when Guruji came calling for her. 

“Mari, listen to what I have to say,” Guruji said calmly.

“Whatever it is you what to say, don’t tell me if it’s about how I have sinned and do not deserve to be in this place of worship.”

“That is not at all what I have come to say,” Guruji continued unperturbed. “I have come to tell you, my child, that no matter how terrible this may all seem, there is potential for your life to change for the better. These caste discrimination laws are so unfair, yet they dictate how our society should function.”

Mari nodded her head intently. 

“The only way you are going to rebuild from here is to immerse yourself in the service of the lord and humanity,” he said gesturing towards the idols of the gods. “Change people opinion about you simply by helping them and making every effort to reinvent your public image. However difficult that may be, it will surely improve your circumstance.”

Mari was struck by how profound and invigorating Guruji’s words were. 

“Thank you for this advice Guruji sir,” Mari said

“Oh it is no problem,” Guruji replied with a chuckle. “Just remember that through your service, people should be happy to hear the sound of that iron bell when it rings. It should signify the public servant you are instead of a criminal.”

“So Guruji what can I do to start serving the village?” Mari asked excitedly. 

“Well… you could start by cleaning the temple grounds. They haven’t been cleaned in years.”

“Alright then!” Mari said beaming, “I'll get started.”

And so Mari began to clean. She scrubbed the years worth of dirt and grime off the temple walls until the ivory-white marble stone was a bright and radiant as the moon was on a dark cloudless night. She channeled all her frustration and anger out on the stone; each scrubbing motion fueled by an unseen fire burning within her. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and soon, the villagers began to visit the temple as part of summer festivities. As they roamed the temple grounds, the villagers constantly heard the faint ring of a bell and saw Mari’s stooped figure busily darting around sweeping and cleaning. When someone complimented her or tried to talk to her, Mari would simply smile and walk away. It is hard to tell whether she was afraid to talk, but one could easily see that Mari had no interest in talking associating with the very people that had publically condemned her. Over the years, the people of Malana realized that Mari was making an earnest effort to change herself, and eventually they began to accept her for the new person she appeared to be. Rather than avoid her when they heard the ring of a bell, people would smile and greet her by saying, “Salutations silent angel.”

Seven years passed, and one day as Mari was sweeping the entrance to the temple, she was surprised to hear a familiar voice call to her. As she looked around to see who it was, a read and golden colored carriage pulled by white stallions came to a halt in front of her. The door opened and Mari’s gaze was met by that of none other than Araav, who dismounted the carriage and made his way towards her beaming ear to ear. 

“Araav, what are you doing here?” Mari asked feeling more confused than happy to see him. 

“Good news my dear Mari!” Araav proclaimed gleefully. “My father gave me ownership of the family business, so I have come to get you. Pack your belongings for we will never spend another day within the gates of this wretched village”. 

“I don’t know Araav,” Mari replied hesitantly. “After all these years, I think I like it better in Malana.” 

“How can you say that?” Araav said, growing irritated. “Both of us know that the villagers despise you for who you are. Your past will always stay imprinted in the minds of the people. Come with me Mari,” Araav said gesturing towards the carriage. “I am your only hope.”

“Never!” Mari declared. “I will always call Malana my home no matter what society thinks of me. For the past seven years, I have selflessly served this village in the hope that I will mend my reputation and erase my past. The one thing I have realized is that my reputation is all that has changed. No one can dictate or change my identity.” Saying this, Mari brushed past Araav and headed back towards the village with the iron bell faintly ringing as she slowly faded into the distance.