Breaking Shadows

Resistance from the Elders

Elders Try to Silence Meera's Teachings

The summer after the drought, resentment simmered among the village elders towards Meera and her swelling influence. They watched uneasily as more youths questioned rituals, advocated for girls' education, and spouted scientific explanations.

"That Meera has poisoned our children's beliefs too much!" the elderly priests grumbled. "They no longer respect traditions."

Meera's father worried for her safety. "Some elders speak of wanting to banish you and your teachings from the village, before you destroy our way of life completely," he warned. "You must be careful."

But Meera refused to back down. "They call me poison, but my only poison is knowledge," she said defiantly. "I will not stop enlightening minds. That would be true destruction."

The conflict came to a head during the Holi festival celebrations. As the village gathered for the colorful ceremonies, Meera noticed many youths were missing.

"Where are the young ones?" she asked Kamla in concern.

Kamla shifted nervously. "The elders banned them from attending Holi," she revealed. "They say the children have lost respect for traditions after joining your classes."

Meera was outraged. Barring children from festivals to punish her influence was unfair and cruel. She marched straight to the village square where the chief and priests were assembling.

"How could you prohibit the children from Holi?" she demanded. "They have done no wrong!"

The men grumbled at her audacity. "You may have filled their heads with irreverence, but we will remind them tradition's importance," the chief said sternly.

Meera pointed angrily at the Holika pyre being built for burning. "Is not this festival about good conquering evil? What good comes from excluding the young and innocent?"

The priest glared from his seat. "It is that modern poison in their minds we must burn away first! Then they can return."

The elders shouted in accord, but Meera stood her ground. "The only true evil is ignorance. Let the children come and decide traditions' meaning themselves."

But the men refused to relent. Livid, Meera gathered her loyal students on the village outskirts instead.

"We shall have our own Holi," she proclaimed. Jai, Kamla and the others cheered, touched by her solidarity. Together they lit a small pyre and sang and danced, covered in rainbow hued powders. Meera's heart swelled watching their joy.

As word spread of the children's exile from Holi, more villagers expressed disapproval. "This is not our way to involve the young ones in quarrels," the potter chided the elders.

The chief dismissed him angrily. "You are all under that girl's spell! We must contain it before she destroys our legacy completely."

But their harshness only spurred more support for Meera. Villagers brought gifts of sweets to her students missing Holi. "You are always welcome here," Leela's mother told Kamla warmly, applying color to her cheek.

Meera's heart rose at seeing minds open despite the elders' resistance. Perhaps they would understand in time.

But the chief and priests became only more determined to curb her influence as Holi ended. They pressured families to withdraw children from her classes, and threatened discipline for any who refused.

"Meera is leading your daughters and sons away from their roots," they warned nervous parents. "For the good of our social order, this must cease."

A few parents, fearing backlash, forbade their children from visiting Meera. Attendance at her classes started to shrink.

Meera felt crushed seeing the intolerance stealing her students' education. "How will the village ever improve if light is continually suppressed?" she despaired.

Even Dev's father pressured him to stop associating with Meera. But Dev resisted the order.

"Her only fault is caring through knowledge. Should that be punished?" he appealed to his stern father. But he remained unmoved.

Spurned by the elders and missing her students' enthusiasm, Meera's spirit flagged. Her skeptical mother pleaded with her again to stop her radical teachings before it was too late.

"Your heart is good, beti, but you push too fiercely," she said. "For the sake of family harmony, soften your stance."

But Meera could not stomach compromising her beliefs, even for her parents. "Should I lead a quiet life knowing what is right? That would be the true betrayal," she argued.

One evening, Meera's closest student Jai came to visit, looking forlorn. "My father discovered our class pamphlets and beat me," he revealed. "He forbade me from your lessons permanently."

Meera felt as if a knife twisted in her heart hearing his sorrow. Her efforts had brought him pain instead of enlightenment. Perhaps she had grown overzealous.

Jai read her worried face. "Do not despair, Didi. The light you sparked in me is permanent, even if father does not understand yet."

Meera wiped back grateful tears and embraced Jai. She would keep faith in her young champions. Their curiosity and courage would shift this village yet. Her work was not in vain, even if progress met friction.

Meera Faces Harsh Backlash but Persists

In the days after the Holi conflict, Meera struggled to accept that the elders may never embrace her educational aims.

"Blind power resists enlightenment," she lamented to her brother Gyan one evening as they did chores.

Gyan nodded, familiar with Meera's frustrations. "But the young saplings you planted will keep spreading seeds of change. Ideas are impossible to control."

Meera smiled sadly at his optimism. She wanted to believe time was on her side. But the elders' crackdown on her classes had strained her confidence.

"Perhaps I was prideful, thinking I alone could uplift this village," she said. "My reach exceeded my grasp."

"You sell yourself short, didi," Gyan insisted. "The children adore you because you opened their eyes to possibility. That impact is permanent."

His steadfast faith lifted Meera's spirits. She resolved to have hope. The elders' antagonism was but a passing storm cloud; the sunlight of knowledge would keep growing brighter.

The next day, Leela knocked eagerly on their door. "Meera, come quick! Surili-ji is asking for you!"

Meera hurried along, wondering why the respected village midwife wanted her. For years, Surili-ji had attended to all the village women during childbirth. It was said she knew secret remedies passed down for generations.

They found Surili-ji grinding herbs, her gray hair falling over her wrinkled face. She gestured Meera over.

"Come child. Kamla tells me you have healer's gifts, though our bull-headed men dismiss you."

Meera flushed. "I have some modest understanding of medicine and science. But my work frustrates the elders."

Surili-ji cackled at this. "And you think those pompous men know better about birthing babies than I, with forty years experience?" The women laughed.

"Ignore the men's bluster," the midwife continued. "We women must look out for each other's welfare."

She passed Meera a bundle of herbs. "Take these; they will reduce Lakshmi's birthing pains. She is due any day."

Meera's eyes misted, deeply moved by Surili-ji's trust. "I shall deliver these to Lakshmi-ji at once. Thank you, grandmother."

The midwife patted Meera's shoulder. "Keep pursuing knowledge, but remain humble. Let your actions, not prideful words, prove your worth."

Meera took her advice sincerely. From then on, she focused her efforts more on serving the people's needs, rather than grand educational schemes that inflamed egos.

When a fever outbreak hit the village, Meera quietly showed families how to heal and nourish the sick back to health. When the tailor despaired over his failing eyesight, Meera provided a herbal solution that restored his vision.

Instead of defiant lessons, she imparted knowledge gently through casual conversations while grinding millet or washing clothes side-by-side. Villagers began seeking her remedies before going to the temple priests.

"You have a gift from the gods," old Lakshmi said after Meera's herbs relieved her joint aches. Others echoed this praise.

Slowly, Meera regained the community's respect through her virtues, not challenging words. She helped deliver Lakshmi's baby, gaining Surili-ji's approval.

"See? Patience yields sweeter fruit than force," Kamla's mother counselled Meera gently. Meera acknowledged the truth in this.

But the chief priest remained suspicious, certain Meera was still secretly swaying the young from tradition. One afternoon he stormed to her yard, accusing her of brainwashing Kamla against the gods.

"That girl refuses to wear ritual bracelets or pray at the temple! You have poisoned her mind against what is proper!" he shouted.

Meera stood calmly. "I have only answered Kamla's questions with honesty and care. Faith cannot be forced, only nurtured."

The priest's face purpled with rage. But before he could react, Surili-ji hobbled between them.

"Enough! Leave this girl be. She has proven her good heart while you men attacked her." The priest shrank back, abashed at being scolded by the revered midwife.

After he left fuming, Surili-ji winked at Meera. "Us women must stick together. Keep lighting your quiet fires of knowledge."

Meera's soul felt reignited with fresh hope. The stars still shone bright, even when angry clouds tried obscuring them

. She would keep nurturing her saplings and illuminating her corner of this world with quiet courage. The shadows would retreat.

To be Continued.........