SHE stood on the wharf, a cold night in June, looking out at the dark river, sounds of the crashing waves, like the tempo of drumbeats. A beautiful woman she was, but the deep sadness in her brown eyes and the tears portrayed someone who had lost something precious in her life. Her heart was crying like rivers flowing, the pain like the prick of sharp thorns as she stood there by the riverside, cold and lonely, hugging her little girl close to her body.
“Would I ever see you again, my sons?” she cried quietly.
From a bar along the Stelling Road, Bob Marley’s soulful lyrics drifted with the wind.

“No woman, no cry.”
The boat captain shouted to all passengers, “We are ready to go now!”
And she stepped into the boat, beginning her journey to one of the islands, then further to another South American country where an old friend awaited her. She looked back at the wharf as the boat pulled away, hoping to see her sons—that this was all a mistake, that she wasn’t leaving—but no one was there. A cry from deep within escaped her lips, the intense pain sending a shiver through her body, but she pulled on her inner strength to stay in control of her emotions for the child in her arms.
Fifteen years ago, she had left her father’s home as a young, radiant bride, happiness in her heart, as cool and fresh as the rain. A new life in the city with her handsome groom filled her with excited hope. Fifteen years of marriage now lost and meaningless, for today she was running away, in the dark of the night, a sleeping child in her arms—a sad and broken woman.
A farmer’s daughter, Priya had been, from a small island in the Essequibo, a country girl, simple and innocent. The river was her playground, and it was there he had seen her from his small yacht as she rose from the water like an illusion, her long black hair cascading down her back.
A few days later, she was surprised to see him with a group of businessmen and a junior minister visiting the island, wanting to know how they could assist the farmers. She saw him on his walks about, watching him as he met with families who needed assistance, but kept out of sight until one day, he came to visit her humble home at her father’s invitation.
He had impressed her young mind with his pleasant personality and modern good looks, but now, face-to-face with him in her home, she was at a loss for words.
Sanjay had smiled at her, and the admiring look in his eyes had sent a strange sensation to her heart. But she was like a wildflower, a hidden beauty, and on this island, fairytale love stories did not happen. But all that changed when, just six months after they met, he asked her to be his wife. Her family was elated, the people of the village jubilant, and the tears of joy in her father’s eyes touched her deeply when she said ‘Yes’ to the proposal.
She had given her love to the rich young businessman, and his promises to love and care for her, she had kept tied to her heart. He was true to his words, and happiness for her was evident in everything: the bliss, the togetherness, and the joy of welcoming their first baby. But a few years after her second son was born, a change began—something unexpected.
It began with a haughty tone and a sudden burst of anger, for which he was quick to apologise. At first, she attributed his changing behaviour to problems with his business, given that one of his storage bonds had burned down recently, so she let it go. But Sanjay’s behaviour got worse, and when he stopped apologising, she knew something had gone wrong. She couldn’t understand how or why it happened—his possessive attitude, restrictions on her social life, his anger and aggression that pushed her into his shadow. She tried to talk to him, to understand the disturbing change, wanting to know if she had done anything wrong, but dialogue was rejected. And as Sanjay’s business and wealth grew, so did his dominance and arrogance.
She spoke to his family and close friends, but no one seemed willing to tell her anything until one friend pitied her suffering and explained to her that the change she was seeing was the person he had been before he met her. He had always been an angry, arrogant young man who abused his girlfriends until his father, who was fed up of bailing him out of trouble, gave him an ultimatum to change or he would disinherit him.
A shocking revelation!
How could she not have known?
His father’s signing over a bit of wealth and properties to him had brought his old personality back to the fore. The old man’s regrets were too late, and Priya had felt trapped and helpless. She now had to live to survive, for her children were her life, and she wouldn’t be able to live apart from them.
Like shattered glass, her dream broke, and a nightmare cloaked in black took the reins of her life.
One day it would be insults and beatings, the next day flowers. He gifted her with diamonds and designer clothes for the world to see, but the diamonds didn’t feel like her best friend, and the clothes didn’t make her feel special.
The years went by, and she continued to be a good wife to her husband, a wonderful mother to her three children; her love for them was the reason she stayed. So she forgave the insults, excused the beatings, and accepted the flowers.
She lived with the hope that one day she would find a way out—but not without her children. One morning, as she laid the table for breakfast, her elder son came down, a troubled look on his face. She knew he had heard his father abusing her last night. It was not the first time, but he was now thirteen, and he could speak on the issue of her tormented life.
“Mom, I think you should go,” he said softly.
“What?” she looked up from what she was doing.
He looked at her, the bruises on her neck and arms, the cut on her lip.
“How long will you live your life like this?”
She didn’t answer, her lips quivering, and she tried not to cry.
“I know you have stayed and tolerated it because of us,” her son said. “But Arvind and I are now big boys—we can take care of ourselves. Take Ashani and go away somewhere far.”
“I can’t. How can I live without my sons?”
He didn’t answer for a while, choking back the tears.
“We’ll always be here for you, Mom. But if you stay, he can kill you one day. I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t stay here. Arvind and I will stay, so he won’t have three reasons to hunt you down. We will find you one day, to be in your life again—rather than we have to take flowers to your grave.”
She hadn’t heeded her son’s plea, not knowing how to leave them, where to go. But one night, three months after that morning, her husband almost killed her in one of his rages, and seeing the terrified look in her son’s eyes, she knew how right he was. They would always be there for her, and one day they would come for their mother.
As the boat sped through the rough waters, in her mind, she put her hand to her heart and untied the knot, letting loose the false promises into the wind. She closed her eyes, unsure of the new life that awaited her, as destiny forged a new path for her, love having lost its way.
Would it ever find her again?
A question only fate would be able to answer.