I live in a small town called Nabadwip, a popular pilgrimage in west Bengal. I was sent away to this town and left to fend for myself by my son. There are around a thousand widows who live here for it is where we are dumped by our family once our husbands die. Sometimes they dump us because we are old and frail and sometimes because they do not want to carry our burden for the years that we are going to live.

We struggle to make ends meet. I sing for four hours every morning at a local temple in exchange for a meal. Sometimes my body breaks and my voice fails me but I strive on because if I don’t sing I will not have anything to eat.

As a widow I faced a lot of prejudice in my village. I was a social outcast.

I have a son who deserted me after his marriage. He does not talk to me. Neither does he provide me with food. He sent me here almost 15 years ago. I was turned out of my own home and have nowhere else to go.

It is true, however, that we are very poor. My son pulled rickshaw. They can hardly make ends meet for themselves and they didn’t want the extra burden of looking after me.

The local temple where I sing every morning is called Bhajana Ashrama, the temple of songs. It is also called the Gupt Vrindaban or the Secret Vrindaban.

Vrindaban is the original pilgrimage town where widows like me were abandoned by their families. Widows being dumped in Vrindaban is centuries old and the problem is bigger there. Various charities and NGOs have looked at the issue and it has been covered in literature, films and documentaries.

The government has tried to help in Vrindaban by setting up some homes for the widows there.

In Nabadwip, there are fewer widows but our condition is the same. I know this because once I had gone away to Vrindaban thinking that I will get a better life there. But it was not so. It was more expensive and surviving there was much more difficult. So I came back to Nabadwip. At least here I am assured of one meal a day.

However, while the conditions in Vrindavan have improved thanks to the active intervention of activists and NGOs, we widows continue to lead a life that should put the world to shame.

The government has done nothing to assist us. At least the Bhajana Ashrama provides us with a daily meal and other necessary articles from time to time. We are alive because of this temple.

There are around 800 of us who sing here everyday. During festivals more widows gather from neighbouring places and the figure then touches 1000.

I suffer from many ailments but we do not have any access to medical help. We wait to see if some kind donor will organise a medical camp. Otherwise we just have to live with our pains and problems.

I am near the end of my life and what hurts me the most is that my own son abandoned me.

And it is not only me. There are a thousand more women who are in a similar condition all around me. Our life is shrouded in misery and we just wait from day-to-day – hoping for a miracle to touch us and lift us from our unwanted and unloved lives.

Bini Dasi told her story to Sweeble correspondent Nilanjana Bhattacharya, in Nabadwip.

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