I once asked Manu Ghosh what it feels like to be a widow in the ancient holy city of Vrindavan, India. The look on her face told me… nothing. Because the scriptures solemnly forbid a widow from feeling anything. The life mission of a widow is to pay for her bad karma by trading every little joy of life for lifeless existence, and thinking colourless thoughts of penance. The widows in passionless white were resolute in the belief that they are sinners and must not budge from their chosen path of renunciation. They kept their desire to celebrate life and make a choice of right to be happy, suppressed, until they were given the option to taste happiness and experience the childlike euphoria. Their severe struggle to stay alive for all these years and ever since fate meted out a sever blow, suddenly stopped making any sense. Hence, throwing caution to the wind, the widows took a leap of faith in trying to find a real meaning to staying alive happily. They fought the battle between spontaneity and scriptures and eventually found a meaning to their, otherwise, meaningless and tabooed existence. The power within these women drove them to soar high as Phoenix from the ashes while discarding the struggle that each one of them went through and come out victorious. Fate appeared weak before their strong desire to make a choice. Everyone has a right to make a choice to be happy…so do the widows.