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Child Brides of India
By: C. Stanton Leman
Chapter 72: Divorce (Mgg, rom, cons, no sex)
I awoke at six as usual with a new purpose in life. I
felt renewed somehow, as if cleansed from my sins.
They say that the word repent comes from the Hebrew
word meaning "To turn away." I had turned away and was
willing to do so with my life.
I started to cry when I realized just how close I'd
come to taking my own life. I vowed to God to try and
live my live being worthy of every breath I took from
this day forward. I hoped that there would never come
a day when I felt such hopelessness and despair that
life no longer seemed to have meaning or worth living.
I looked at my daughter: yes, my daughter, as she lay
sleeping on her side. At that moment, I felt
everything a parent would feel about seeing their
child grow in love, feeling safe in the arms of her
father and knowing I'd protect her from any of the
evil dangers this life could hold.
This little Indian girl, along with other girls I
would sire, would know they were loved, cherished and
that they were as valuable and precious as any boy
ever could be.
I again enfolded her tiny foot in my hand and felt the
softness of it, the baby soft purity of an innocent
babe and she seemed all the more beautiful in my eyes.
I tickled her sole and she flinched, opened her eyes
and smiled at me.
She turned and sat up, stretching out her arms and I
picked her up and held her to my bosom. I kissed the
side of her head and she cooed "Da Da."
I love the sound of that! "Yes, Baby, Da Da's
here," I
reassured her.
Priya and Leeya entered apprehensively and when they
saw me smiling and holding Faatina, rushed to the bed,
relieved that everything was all right.
With a beaming smile, I said to the girls, "Listen,
I've gotta surprise for you two."
I rubbed Faatina's back and kissed her head and she
again cooed, "Da Da."
Leeya jumped for joy on the bed as Priya smiled and
began to softly cry. "We really ARE parents aren't
we?" she asked.
"Yes Beloved," I said smiling as I held my
baby girl.
"Isn't it wonderful?"
With tears of joy on her cheeks, Priya smiled and
silently nodded.
I rose and got dressed. When Leeya asked me if I was
going to shower, I told I'd done so last night. We
said morning prayers and much thanks and praise was
offered for the blessings I had been given.
Arriving downstairs, Leeya was all over herself with
joy that Faatina had called me Da Da. Mom smiled at me
and started to well up and dad had to cough to hold
back a tear. When Monaavi arrived and sat for tea,
Leeya shared the good news. Monaavi suddenly burst into tears.
Mom rose and leaning down, hugged her head to her. She
asked, "What's the matter Sweetie?"
"I'm just so happy for her," Monaavi replied,
"Every
time I see a child reach a milestone, it just makes my
heart soar with joy. I love children so much and I
have been blessed so much since coming here to teach
that I think my heart will break when they grow up and
don't need me anymore; I don't know what I'll be left
with when they're gone."
"They may grow up Honey," Mom said
encouragingly, "But
a child never forgets those that have loved them.
You'll always be a part of them as they'll always be a
part of your life in some way."
Monaavi sniffled and wiped her tears bashfully as mom
again took her seat. Mom said, "Let me tell you a
little story my sister Cinny told me, on her deathbed,
that has been my strength and inspiration all of my
life."
Dad put his paper down as we trained our eyes on her.
My mother was going to impart something of enduring
value to us and we knew to pay attention. I had long
wondered what had motivated my mother to be the pillar
of strength for this family and I was hungry for her wisdom.
Mom took a sip of tea, set her cup down and began as a
single tear dropped to her cheek, "When Cinny knew her
time was near, she took my hand when I was a young
woman of twenty three, just like you Monaavi. I was
distraught at the thought that my closest friend and
sister would die and leave me. Cinny took my hand as I
sat next to her on the bed and told me this story:
"Life is like a train ride.
We get on, we ride, we get off.
We get back on and ride some more.
There are accidents and there are delays.
At certain stops, there are surprises.
Some of these will translate into moments of joy;
Some will result in profound sorrow.
When we are born and first board the train,
We will meet people we think will be with us for the
entire journey.
These people are our parents!
Sadly, this is far from the truth.
Our parents are with us for as long as we absolutely
need them: they too have journeys to complete.
We live on with the memory of their love, affection,
friendship, guidance and their presence.
There are others who board the train and who
eventually become very important to us in turn.
These people are our brothers and sisters, spouses,
friends and acquaintances, whom we learn to love and
cherish.
Some people consider their journey like a jaunty tour:
They go merrily along.
Others will encounter many upsets, tears and losses on
their journey.
Others still will linger on to offer a helping hand to
anyone in need.
Some people on the train will leave an everlasting
impression when they get off…
Some will get on and off so quickly they scarcely
leave a sign that they ever traveled along with you or
ever crossed your path.
We will sometimes be upset that some passengers whom
we love, will choose to sit in another compartment and
leave us to travel on their own.
Then again, there's nothing that says we can't seek
them out anyways.
Nevertheless, once sought out and found, we may not
even be able to sit next to them because that seat
will already be taken.
That's OK; everyone's journey will be filled with
hopes, dreams, challenges, setbacks and goodbyes.
We must strive to make the best of it, no matter what…
Remember that at any moment during our journey, any
one of our travel companions can have a weak moment
and be in need of our help.
We too may vacillate or hesitate, even trip…
Hopefully we can count on someone being there to be
supportive and understanding.
The bigger mystery of our journey is that we don't
know when our last stop will come. Neither do we know
when our travel companions will make theirs: not even
those sitting in the seat next to us.
I know I'll be sad when I make my final stop, I'm sure
of it!
My separation from all those friends and acquaintances
I've made during the train ride will be painful.
Leaving those I'm close to and love will be a sad thing.
But then again I'm certain that one day I'll get to
the main station only to meet up with everyone else.
They'll be carrying their baggage…
Most of which they didn't have when they boarded.
I'll be glad to see them again. I'll also be glad to
have contributed to their baggage and to have enriched
their lives as much as they have contributed to my
baggage and enriched my life.
We are all on this train ride together.
After all, we should try to strive to make this ride
as pleasant and memorable as we can: right up until we
each make that final stop and leave the train for the last time."
Mom was crying her story, as were we upon listening to
it. She composed herself by wiping her face and gave a
composing sniffle and finished with, "With that, Cinny
kissed me goodbye and said, "Bon Voyage sister,"
closed her eyes and fell to sleep for the last time."
Monaavi and Priya fell to my mother's feet sobbing as
Dad and I silently wept. Mom enfolded both girls and
said, "I shared this with you so that you are
encouraged and strengthened in knowing that the
lifetime of love and care we give to others,
especially a child, is a legacy that lives for
eternity. Generations of children will talk of what
you've done for them in their lives and pass this on
to their children. If I have given you a small measure
of what Cinny has given me, She lives on in all our hearts."
Hearing my mother's word brought a new and clear
understanding to what Emmy had said to me last night.
I silently praised God for His tender mercies and for
giving me the privilege to raise Faatina as my own.
Everyone having regained their composure, we finished
breakfast with renewed hope in the purposes of our
lives: Dad to the office, Monaavi to the girls, Leeya
and Attiya to their studies. Priya and I had our
daughter and Mom to watch over all of us.
I called the hospital and spoke to Dr. Gupta. He
agreed to meet with me at 1pm, after which he has
surgery at two-thirty. I informed Priya and Mom of my
appointment and they were pleased to hopefully bring
this ordeal to an end.
I played with the baby for about an hour then readied
myself to leave. At noon, I left for the hospital. I
arrived about twelve-forty and made my way to his
office and sat outside his office for about twenty
minutes, when he hurriedly turned the corner,
He came to a halt and extended his hand with a smile.
We exchanged pleasant greetings and he invited me into
his office. We sat and he asked me, "What can I do for you?"
I asked him, "I'm not sure about here in India, but
in
America there's such a thing as doctor/patient
confidentiality. What I need to speak about is private
and not to be a part of her history."
"I'm not sure what this is about," he said
cautiously,
"But I can assure you that whatever you tell me about
my patient is privileged information."
"What I'm about to say," I began, "If
ever revealed,
it could send me to prison. Do I have your assurance
that our conversation will remain confidential?"
"My door is closed Mr. Michaels," Dr. Gupta
assured,
"And I will keep your confidence if this in regards to my
patient."
"It is," I replied, "As you know,
Faatina's father is,
what shall I say, insensitive and uncaring? Shit, why
sugar coat things: he was willing to starve his
daughter to death rather than care for her in her disability."
"Oh my!" He replied, "I thought he was
distant and
lacked a connection with his daughter but had no idea
that she was in THAT kind of danger. Did you notify
the authorities?"
"And say what?" I asked, "That I SUSPECT
he won't
provide for his daughter and let her slowly perish? No
crime had been committed."
I went on to explain what happened that day a month
ago when I tried to offer my help, including buying
him a house and supporting him and his family. I also
tried to explain Amaad's twisted views on Islam and
why he may have felt that if he found his daughter a
spouse that would absolve him in some way that
justified his actions, at least in his own mind.
"I and my wife are Muslim," I began to
explain, "As
are Faatina and her parents. The only way I could save
her and get her removed from her father's grasp was to
agree to marry her, with the intention that once he'd
signed the guardianship papers turning Faatina's
parental rights over to me, I would raise her as my daughter."
"What I didn't realize," I revealed, "Was
that under
Islamic law, I had made a valid marriage contract. If
I didn't follow through with the marriage, Amaad would
have reported me for having a marriage with an
underaged girl, I would have been sent to prison and
he would have regained custody of Faatina, claiming I
used deception to rob him of his parental rights."
I showed Dr. Gupta the guardianship papers and
explained what I'd offered as a dower to Faatina. I
finished my story by saying, "As a result of this, and
with no other way to save the child's life, I married
her this Monday past."
"I see," he said but his look said
differently, "I
knew that these types of marriages took place, but
this is the first experience I'd had personally. Tell
me, has there been consummation?"
"Yes, " replied, "But not like you think.
As long as
the child sleeps with her spouse, she has fulfilled
her duties as best she is able and the marriage is
considered consummated. I haven't done anything sexual
with the child, only slept in the same bed with her:
she's basically an infant, and my wife and I have
treated her as our child."
"That's good to hear," he said relieved,
"But where do
I fit in, and why are you here?"
"Having legal guardianship, I wish to divorce from
my
Islamic marriage to Faatina and raise her as a
daughter. If, in the event Faatina recovers from her
disabilities and grows to be mature enough to marry,
she'll be able to do so. But here's where you come in.
I need grounds for divorce. If you can provide me with
a letter, giving your medical opinion that she may
never recover enough to fulfill her duties as a wife,
namely to bear and raise a child, I then have grounds
and can divorce her."
"How can I do that?" Dr. Gupta asked,
"She may very
well recover, what then? I leave myself open to
criticism that I may have lied."
"You're right," I agreed, "But the
operative word here
is MAY. She MAY recover. Isn't it possible she MAY NOT?"
"Of course," he replied, "That's always a
possibility:
there's no way to know that."
Trying another approach, I asked him, "Let's think
hypothetically for a moment. Let's say that you had to
testify in court regarding her condition: right now,
having only the information you now have regarding her
disabilities. If you were asked the simple yes or no
question, "Will she make a full recovery and be able
to raise a child?" what would you say?"
"I would say," he responded, "That she
has a 50/50
chance of becoming capable of raising a child."
"A 50/50 chance," I repeated, "Would you
marry a woman
that you knew had a 50/50 chance of being not only
capable of maturely executing her duties as your
spouse, but also in having the capability to foster a child?"
"No, I would not," he replied.
"So," I said in summation, "In your
expert medical
opinion as a pediatric neurologist, there's a good
possibility, a 50% probability, she may never reach
that level of recovery."
"Yes," he answered.
"THAT," I responded, "Dr. Gupta, is
grounds for
divorce. If you could provide a letter to that effect,
you wouldn't be lying. You're leaving open a 50%
chance she'll recover but at the same time, admitting
that she may never recover enough to be a proper mother."
"You've made your case," Dr. Gupta replied,
"Are you
sure you're not a lawyer?"
We chuckled at his remark and I answered his with,
"No, I'm just fighting to give a girl that I want to
raise as my daughter the chance to have a life of her
own. If she recovers, I hope she'll fall in love,
marry and have lots of kids. If she doesn't, then her
mother and father will be there to care for her for
the rest of her life: either way, she'll be loved dearly."
"I must say Mr. Michaels," He responded,
"You have put
yourself in great jeopardy for this child, why?"
Hanging my head I replied, "Because Dr. Gupta,
although I've come to love India, I've seen two cases
where a child, simply because she was born a girl, was
in danger of being either abused or simply murdered
slowly because she was unwanted. God brought Faatina
into this world for a purpose. What that purpose is,
we've yet to see, but she deserves to live and try to
be what God intended her to be and contribute her
gifts as a human being."
I had tears running down my cheeks as I concluded,
"I
lost someone I loved deeply to the disease that
afflicted Faatina. It just seems so sad that because a
little girl took a drink of water, she should suffer
her entire life or possibly die just because she was
thirsty. I cannot understand how any man could hate a
little girl so much he'd rob her of her right to live.
She deserves a life and the right to pursue her
dreams. I want to give her back her life and her dreams."
"I agree," he affirmed, "I have two
little girls
myself and they are the light of my life. I'll give
you your letter."
He turned in his chair, booted up his computer and
typed out the letter. He printed it out, took it from
the printer and as he handed it to me he asked with an
inquisitive smile, "Now tell me, how's she REALLY doing?"
I chuckled, smiled and replied, "She's crawling now
and has said, "Ma" and calls me "Da Da."
"I'm glad," He replied, "I know she's in
good hands.
If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call me."
"Thanks doc," I assured as I extended my hand,
"I'll
keep you posted on her progress."
"I'd like that," he responded, "I always
like to hear
of my little patients' successes."
"Thank you Dr. Gupta," I said shaking his
hand, "For
everything."
"My pleasure," he replied as we shook
hands."
"Good day Dr. Gupta," I said.
"Good day and good luck Mr. Michaels," he
replied.
I arrived home about three-fifteen. I showed Mom,
Priya and Monaavi the letter and we were all ecstatic.
I called the mosque and asked for the Imaam but he was
busy so I left a message.
Monaavi returned to her duties with the girls and
Priya suggested I try again to get Faatina to go on
the potty. No such luck. She sat, played with her
fingers, fooled with her dress, anything but go pee.
After ten minutes, I let her up and diapered her.
Mom, watching from the sidelines said, "See, I told
you it was beginner's luck. It'll take time, just be
patient and don't force the issue or she'll balk and
make your life miserable over this."
I let the baby play in the living room (Mom had
removed all the breakables from the tables) and went
to the dining room. Passing the study, Monaavi was
sitting on the floor with the girls. She was leaning
and resting her weight on her left arm and had her
legs folded under her right side. Her sari was pulled
up slightly and I could see her bare feet. She had
pretty, slender and narrow feet that were small for
her five foot-three inch frame with soft bumps for
ankles and small, slender toes that were light pink to
match the soles of her feet.
She caught me out of the corner of her eye, turned to
look at me and smiled. I returned the smile as she
looked back to the girls and I continued to the dining room.
I had a small salad for lunch and was just finishing
eating when the Imaam called. I explained to him my
meeting with Dr. Gupta today and had obtained a letter
from him stating that Faatina may possibly never
recover from her disabilities enough to properly raise
a child and would like to begin proceedings for a
divorce. He asked me to bring all my documents to his
office this evening at seven to discuss the matter. We
gave our parting salaams and disconnected.
At afternoon tea, we were all happy to see things
progress but were realistically cautious and HOPEFULLY
optimistic about tonight's meeting. Only time would tell.
The day ended normally with Monaavi readying herself
to leave after the music lesson, Dad arrived home and
we got ready to eat dinner. Monaavi left the girls in
the study as Attiya played "Mary had a Little Lamb:"
with accompanying chords to the melody. It was still
an amazing wonder how this child had so effortlessly
learned to play! Leeya just sat on the bench beside
her and watched her fellow student play with total
concentration to her task.
At dinner, Dad was optimistically happy that a divorce
was eminent. As always, he was cautious and ended the
conversation with, "Well, it ain't over 'til the fat lady sings."
It was beginning to appear that Faatina liked to eat
her starches and vegetables more than meat. She loved
rice, carrots and potatoes. She ate well but didn't
seem to be gaining any weight. Mom commented that she
was burning a lot of calories crawling and was growing just fine.
After dinner, we retreated to the bedroom to say early
prayer so I could leave to meet with Imaam. After
prayers were finished, I grabbed a copy of my will,
Faatina's now legal trust fund papers, the letter of
guardianship and Dr. Gupta's letter. Putting
everything into my briefcase, I kissed my wives, Mom
and daughter goodbye with good luck wishes from all
and left for my meeting.
I arrived at the mosque and sat outside the Imaam's
office for about fifteen minutes when he appeared. We
gave our obligatory salaams and he ushered me inside to talk.
After being seated, I explained when I wanted to do
and showed him the papers. He looked over everything
and asked me, "So, if a irrevocable divorce is
granted, you'll continue her support?
"Yes Imaam," I replied, "Faatina's trust
fund will be
hers to keep and do with as she wishes should she be
of legally sound mind to do so. Using the letter of
guardianship, I'll not abandon her care but raise her
as my daughter. She will want for nothing and receive
any and all care necessary for her recovery."
Looking at the papers he asked, "And her dower will
be
paid in full? You won't rescind this agreement at a later date?"
"No Imaam," I answered, "It will no
longer be called a
dower, but a trust fund, set up for my child the same
as I will do for any of my other children. She'll be
treated equally with all children I might sire."
Setting the papers down and removing his glasses he
said, "On this basis, since you're not divorcing her
to relieve yourself of the responsibility of her care
and welfare, I'll permit the divorce. Bring her here
tomorrow for the proceeding. Do you need witnesses?"
"Yes Imaam, could two clerics act as
witnesses?"
"Yes," he replied, "I will arrange it.
Come to my
office at two pm."
I thanked him, we exchanged salaams and I left for
home, happy that things would finally work out. I
arrived home about nine to expectant family members
waiting for the answer.
I kept a straight face until we were all seated in the
living room, with Faatina crawling around on the
floor. I looked at this infant-like toddler and then
looked up at everyone awaiting my answer.
I smiled and said, "Tomorrow at two. Imaam will
grant
the divorce with my assurance that I'll raise Faatina
as my daughter."
Leeya and Priya "Eeek'ed" out with joy and ran
to my
lap, each showering kisses on my face. Mom gave a sigh
and sat back on the couch and started to cry. Dad
slumped in his chair and exclaimed, "Thank you sweet Jesus!"
After several rounds of familial hugs and kisses, we
decided that we'd had enough excitement for one day,
call it a night and get some sleep. Priya, Leeya and I
along with our daughter said goodnight and went
upstairs for a family night together.
After another unsuccessful attempt at the potty, Priya
diapered Faatina and we settled into bed with Leeya on
my left, and Faatina in between Priya and I on my right.
I kissed my loves goodnight and Priya cuddled Faatina
to her. Instead of sucking her thumb, Faatina latched
onto Priya's breast and began to suck. As Priya
brushed the hair from our suckling daughter's forehead
I asked her, "I thought you didn't like dry nursing her?"
Priya softly replied as she stroked Faatina's face,
"I'll suckle my daughter but I had trouble thinking I
was nursing your wife."
With that, we fell off to sleep hearing the suckling
sounds of our child.
We were just getting ready to sit for breakfast when
Monaavi arrived. Standing at the table Monaavi joined
the crowd and was standing between Priya and I. Mom
rose from the table, took Monaavi's face in her hands
and began kissing her on both cheeks.
Monaavi blushed a bright pink and asked, "What's
THIS
all about?"
"THIS," Mom exclaimed, "Is for finding
the solution to
our problems! Sean will get his divorce today at two!"
Monaavi "Eeek'ed" out in excitement hugging
Mom and
Priya. She turned to me, and for a second it looked
like she was reaching out to hug me, but suddenly she
pulled back, blushing shyly.
The moment was very awkward for all of us. Mom and
Priya grinned at each other silently as Monaavi froze,
then looked down blushing with a shy smile. I didn't
know WHAT to say! Dad saw the awkwardness of the
moment and clearing his throat said, "Ok kids, let's eat."
We sat down and had a hearty meal of eggs and potatoes
with toast and jelly. After breakfast, we turned to
our daily duties: Dad to the office and Monaavi to the
girls, while Mom, Priya and I got things ready to
leave for this afternoon's trip to the mosque.
At lunch, everyone was too excited to eat, so as Leeya
and Attiya chowed down, we simply had tea and talked.
Monaavi said that Attiya was progressing with her
lessons much easier and Priya asked why that was.
Monaavi revealed that, since Attiya has an innate
ability to understand musical terms in her head, all
music is nothing more than a series of mathematical
equations and progressions. Although Attiya may not
consciously understand this, she's able to apply her
music theory to her math and it works! She's now
working on a first grade level, which is astounding
given the fact that she couldn't understand numbers at
all a few months ago.
She went on to say that Leeya, although only five, was
doing second grade work without struggling. Monaavi
asked if we felt that she should continue home
schooling her or would we like for her to enroll in
public school. I told her that I'd been home schooled
until high school and things worked out well for me
and for her to continue, as long as Leeya could get
her work accredited from the school system.
After the girls had about twenty minutes of
"recess"
after lunch, Monaavi collected them for the afternoon
study session. Priya took Faatina upstairs to get her
cleaned up, changed and ready to leave.
Just as we were getting ready to leave, Dad returned
home and said, "I'd like to be there, if it's alright with you."
"Sure Dad," I replied, "But you'll have
to be quiet
and just observe along with Mom. There'll be two
clerics acting as witnesses."
"OK," he replied.
Priya came downstairs with Faatina dressed in a black
pants set and her hair pulled back in barrettes. We
readied ourselves and left.
We arrived at the Imaam's office about one-fifty and
waited twenty minutes for him to meet with us. As
Imaam entered his office followed by the two clerics,
we followed along behind.
The Imaam had me stand, holding Faatina with the
witnesses on each side. He explained that since I was
divorcing a wife who'd not yet reached puberty, this
divorce would be irrevocable and that the divorce
consists of a formula of divorce, the intention and a declaration.
He informed us that the formula consisted of me
stating three times that "I divorce you Faatina
Michaels," and the intention must contain the
conditions of our divorce and the declaration of the
first two, three times.
He nodded for me to begin, so I said, "I divorce
you
Faatina Michaels with the intention to provide and
care for you your entire life as my daughter, if need
be and present you with a trust fund of ten million
dollars as provided to all my children yet unborn."
He then directed me to repeat the declaration twice more.
Twice more I said, "I irrevocably divorce you
Faatina
Michaels with the conditions I have promised. I
irrevocably divorce you Faatina Michaels with the
conditions I have promised."
Nodding he said, "It is done. Sign the decree of
divorce. She is now forbidden to you as a wife,
irrevocably and forever."
I signed, followed by the two clerics signing the
decree and that was that. Under Indian law, Faatina
was now my minor ward and under Islamic law, she was
no longer my wife. I was now free to love and raise
this child as my own flesh and blood.
Mom, Priya and Dad gave audible sighs of relief when
the document was signed and finished. I gave my thanks
for Imaam's understanding in this matter and Priya and
I offered our parting salaams, then left for home.
Arriving home at about four, we decided to go out to
dinner. We invited Monaavi, but she respectfully
declined. I think she felt that this was a family
moment and didn't want to intrude, despite Mom's
repeated efforts to convince her to join us. We
invited Pita and Attiya and they were grateful to be included.
Taking two cars, we dropped Monaavi off at home and
went to dinner. Pita was shy about ordering what she
wanted, but Dad threatened her jokingly with
termination if she didn't order what she really
wanted. Once past that hurdle, we settled into a
delicious and satisfying meal.
After dinner, we dropped Pita and Attiya at home and
mad our way to ours. Arriving home about eight, we
thankfully ended a day that would shape our lives forever.
After evening prayers and settled in bed, Leeya said,
"Can 'Tina sleep with me?"
"Why?" asked Priya.
"'Cause," Leeya replied thrusting out her
chest,
"'Tina's making my boobies grow, see?"
I chuckled and Priya looked at the two dots on Leeya's
chest that still looked like they were painted on.
Priya brushed her hand over Leeya pea-sized areola and
her tiny BB of a nipple popped up.
Leeya smiled with satisfaction and said, "See, told
you so."
Priya laughed and replied, "If you say so, Sweetie.
If
you keep growing like that, you'll have titties when
you're fifteen."
"Will not!" Leeya shot back like a little
snot.
We just laughed and Priya said, "Go ahead, knock
yourself out. But I gotta tell you, if you nurse her
and she gets wet, you'll have to change her."
"OK," Leeya answered, "But I ain't doin'
no poopy
diapers, I'll wake Sean for that!"
Having resolved the nursing and diaper issue, we
settled in for a truly family night's sleep.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The story about the train ride was
something I'd read several years ago, saved and is
attributed to an unknown author. When I wrote the
paragraph with Monaavi's remarks, the story came back
to me and seemed apropos.
Continued in Chapter 73…
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