My Wanderings - 29. Short story -12 How the seasons change

She was my friend, a neighbour and a class mate  in my  early childhood. She was very pretty and innocent  like most of the girls in our society during those days. She was almost of my age but very mature than me. Once I  slipped and fell down on the street and spoiled my clothes alongwith my arms and legs  with splashes of mud.  She helped me out by taking me to the nearest municipal tap and washed  my mud laden hands and arms. We both grew up together in the same street.  We used to play together in surrounding lanes and by lanes and exchanged toys with each other. With the passage of time  shyness took toll of our acquaintance  which stopped the  meetings  and we could  only exchange stealing  glances at each other. This was the reward bestowed on us by the adolescent age . She grew up into a young damsel and myself into a lanky youth. Years passed by with the change of seasons which were most  conspicuous  by their characteristic features  in valley. Blossoms on almond  trees with fragrant  and cool breeze of spring season, shedding of leaves by chinars and heaps of dry and  crimson coloured leaves spread all over the floor making crunchy noise when trampled under feet in autumn season  and earth evenly clad with  white and velvety sheet of snow in winter.
In the meantime I could notice that she had fallen in love with a Boy who was senior to her by few years. While taking interest in the incident it transpired that the particular boy had followed and coaxed her for many months and was successful in winning her heart. Within a short period of time  she got married to him, against the wishes  of her parents and  that was the beginning of  misfortune in her life.
After few years of her marriage she was divorced by her husband as she was not able to conceive. He latter on married another woman to create  his progeny which he could never materialise.  Now she was left with no other alternative but to shift to her parents house. Once she met me on the street . she looked very gloomy and melancholic. After enquiring about my welfare she told me that these men are a queer lot.  They first  wag their tails behind a woman and when some foolish of a woman takes pity  on them, they trample her under their feet like dry withered leaves of chinar in the autumn season of Kashmir. I could well understand the misery she might have undergone at her in-laws and now with her parents after her broken marriage and  unfortunate return.
After elapse of some time she was married again to a widower, already  having two grown up children. The marriage was arranged by her parents this time. The man to whom she married was much senior to her in age. As he did not require any more children, he agreed to marry her despite knowing fully about her inability to bear children.  Exactly after a year of her second marriage, to much of my astonishment,  I saw her again with a child in her lap which she had recently delivered. It was a male child. This time she appeared very elated and fresh like the early blossom of almonds in spring season of Kashmir.
Then we left the Kashmir for good due to the uprising and terrorism and we lost the touch completely with our neighbours. Moreover,  we never visited the place again.
It was quite recently  I  heard that her son had turned into a terrorist and  killed his father when the later  tried to dissuade him from his mission.  Then he was also killed  in encounter with army . Now she was visiting and  praying at the grave of her son   daily even in the coldest season of winter when the graves were laden with white sheets of snow covering even the grave stones as if the person lying  beneath  it, who never reconciled in his life was disgusted and embarrassed with his deeds and never wanted to let  anybody to know his whereabouts.
Unknown unlamented let me die
And no stone to tell where I lie.