True Love...

Lost in deep thoughts, her dark eyes are fixed on the supple waves kissing the delicate green banks of the serene lake as the cool breeze combs through her soft hair. For once, her kohl-lined eyes are quiet yet speak a thousand words. Clad in a crisp white cotton kurti with a rose pink churidaar, she seems to be a picture of perfect poise and extraordinary contentment, rarely found among her contemporaries. But why not! Tomorrow is the Happiest Day of her life. Her little girl is getting married to her Prince Charming. And it's a crazy feeling. She just doesn't know how to react. She is extremely happy and ecstatic that her baby is starting a new life with a man who loves her truly, madly and deeply yet she is dewy eyed, nostalgic and a tad too emotional.
Sitting by the lake side on the pleasant autumn evening, she seems to be reliving her 'single' motherhood all over again, cherishing the memories she had shared with her 'daughter' all by herself. At times, her face lights up with an impromptu smile and suddenly, her deep eyes glisten under the burden of a tiny droplet called forth by the riot of emotions running through her being. It is a strange evening - a rendezvous of happy beginnings and painful endings.
Aradhana was not M's own child. Nor was she adopted. Yet the two formed the most enviable mother-daughter duo ever. They shared a strange bond, deeper than blood ties, thicker than those of the heart. And the age difference of mere 11 years between them often made them the subject of curiosity among circles. Perhaps they had some connection from the previous birth, both believed and joked. 
It was about six-and-a-half-years ago that as a 'fire-brand' cub reporter, M had met Aradhana for the first time by sheer chance.
She had been sitting in office one lazy afternoon when her crime reporter colleague had narrated a gruesome crime incident. He was visibly upset and though wanted desperately to talk to the victim, did not know how to go about it. M had offered to accompany him to the victim's house and suggested that she would try talking to her.
Within no time, the duo, with a photographer colleague in tow, was standing outside a tiny little dilapidated structure of a room. One knock on the crumbling door and a boy of about 18 appeared in a worn-out blue shorts and greying shirt. Sans any words, the visitors were ushered into a dark room, lit by a kerosene lamp. In the darkest corner of the 6x6 room, sat a petite child with her head pressed between her sickly limbs and her long black hair flowing down her left side. The male colleagues had signalled M to sit on the scruffy cot on the other side of the room. Dazed, she fell on the cot while the men walked out. The boy now kneeled before M and broke down. All he wanted was justice for his kid sister. He then got up and walked towards the door, leaving M alone with the sobbing child.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, M cleared her throat and called out to the girl. Sensing great discomfort, she then climbed down the cot and sat next to the girl. As her skin rubbed against that of the child, a chill ran down M's spine not just because the girl was burning with fever but because, she felt a strong tug at her heart, as if she was shaken out of the dream world into something deeper than reality, something only she could feel but would never know how to express. The girl had, upon the slightest physical contact with M, fallen into her warm arms, giving herself up in the child-woman's embrace, with her face buried deep in the comforting bosom. She was sobbing incessantly. M's heart was throbbing with an unknown emotion. She did not know what was happening to her. She had never felt like that before. Stunned, she sat there with the child in her arms for what seemed like an eternity. The cold floor beneath mocked at the warmth that the young woman shared with the child. Neither knew what bond was this but both felt comfortable.
A knock on the door was enough to transport M back to reality. "We need some more time," she called out in a faint tone to whosoever was standing outside.
Stroking her hair lovingly, M urged the girl to talk to her. After persistent efforts, the girl finally lifted her face. It was a beautiful sight - deep-set almond eyes, the hue of ebony, were staring at M from behind the thick tuft of hair flowing across the dusky face. There was sorrow, pain, horror and expectation in the clear eyes and tears expressed it all. For M, it was instant love, a strange occurrence that defied all explanations with-in and with-out.
Wiping her tears, M comforted the girl and assured her full support. But, she wanted to know what had happened which made her cry so much. The sobbing girl, as if waiting to pour out her pent-up pain, spilled her heart out to M. 
As she heard the blood-curdling tale of the 13-year-old, M froze. "My father is a MONSTER," were the girl's first words to M.
She was being raped by her own biological father for the past six years and her own mother was helping the fiend to execute the horrifying animal act because she was tired of facing his drunken sexual assault each night. She served her own daughter to her husband to escape the pain of forceful sex. This, they had been doing in front of their 18-year-old son repeatedly for the past six years. And now, the girl was pregnant with the child of her own father.
Today, the beast and his wife were out for a friend's wedding, which gave the son a chance to go out and make efforts to save his innocent sister. It was at the nearby tea stall that he had met M's crime reporter colleague which in turn brought the trio here.
Tears flowed freely as M held the girl close to her heart. No words were exchanged beyond this but souls trembled. Hours passed by but tears did not stop. The men intervened and reminded M it was already 7 pm. Hugging the child tight and promising to get her justice, M got up. Her eyes were burning with murderous rage. As if the last few hours had transformed her from a carefree, chirpy young thing into a fierce lioness on the prowl. 
Within minutes, police was called in. Monster and his wife were arrested and put behind bars. The girl was sent to Shanti Niketan and the case was sent to fast-track court. M and her colleagues tried their best to get capital punishment for the rapist and his wife. They highlighted the child's plight in their newspaper, India's largest national English daily, evoking strong reactions and massive support from across the nation. However, the judiciary, like always, played spoilsport and under-punished the monster and his wife by sentencing them to rigorous life term while the entire media fraternity was seething with anger, demanding death for the monstrous duo.
During the course of the trial, M had grown really close to the girl. She would visit the child each morning and evening at Shanti Niketan and be with her even during the court proceedings, protecting her like a mother. She would take food and other stuff for her and have her meals with the girl. She faced, along with the girl, the agony of the fact that both, child birth as well as MTP could be fatal for the pregnant child. Finally, she saw the girl through her painful MTP (medical termination of pregnancy) and comforted her through the most difficult time of her life. The girl, who would go into a self-woven cocoon in the presence of others, blossomed into a loving child when around M.
Days, weeks, months passed. From "Didi" (sister) when M became "Maa" (mother), none of the two realised. But it was an immensely beautiful bond that the two women shared.
On a special appeal by M's resident editor, the court let the girl live with her brother and grandparents who had come from Bihar after the gory incident came to light. 
A year later, the family expressed a desire to go back to Bihar. With a heavy heart, M decided to let go. She made all arrangements for their trip back home. Called up her colleagues in Bihar to ensure the girl and her brother were well taken care off once back home and admitted to a decent government school. She withdrew all her savings and pooled them with the amount collected by her colleagues for the girl and handed over an FD to the child's grandfather. This money, she had said, would help at the time of the girl's marriage.
She then took a promise from the affectionate grandparents that they would not marry off the girl before she turned 18 and educate her till then, with the financial assistance that her colleagues and she would be sending each month.
With tears of happiness mixed with the pain of separation, M and her girl bid adieus to each other. Phone calls continued all these years, pleasantly interrupted by a visit each by M and her girl to each other's places, as the latter went on to complete her high school. And just about at that time, the girl had called up her "Maa" to tell her how she had come across a nice, handsome, gentle school teacher, who knew everything about her past, yet, was ready to accept her as his wife. Not only that, he had even waited for two long years for her to complete her Class X and attain the legal marriageable age before he finally took the proposal to her grandparents. The boy had even assured the grandparents that he would support the girl's higher studies and help her complete her education, at least till graduation. Thereafter, he would leave the choice of a career or a full time house-job to his wife. The boy belonged to a very educated family and had fallen in love with the girl's simplicity, honesty and sensitivity.
M was happy but apprehensive. The girl was too young, she had reasoned, to which the grandmother had remarked that the boy lives just across the road and it was not everyday that one finds such a sincere man. "She is 19. She will start a family only after they are both ready for it. There is no need to worry. We have verified his antecedents and are more than satisfied," remarked the gleeful grandma. But M insisted on meeting the boy and his family. They agreed and within days, a meeting was held. M could just not say no to the loving family. "When I look into his eyes, I can see immense love for you. He will always keep you happy. God Bless you my baby," she had said and given her approval.
And now, four weeks later, M is all set to see her l'il Aradhana walk down the aisle and be someone else's forever. She is happy, very happy and proud too, of her lovely daughter, who has grown into a fine young woman. Tomorrow, she will play the role of a mother when Aradhana takes the wedding vows because that is how Aradhana had wanted it to be, ever since she first addressed M as "Maa". 
M feels proud and blessed.