I remember myself as the most mischievous child that I've ever met. I was the captain of my family's bacha party being the eldest. My papaji has been such a kind of social worker that he cannot be considered less than any NGO who has got several guests everyday at his door for his help.
Maa used to be busy with the guests throughout the day in her kitchen.Taking the advantage of my busy parents, I did everything that any child wishes to do, from tearing important sheets of paper or breaking the glasses. I remember once I broke the television to find what was going inside that.
Though I did everything to get slapped on hourly basis, I used to play the nuisances so well that through out the day I along with my gang stayed away from the sight range of maa. If she saw us, it was sure that we would get 2/4 chappals.
There was an under construction hospital near our home. We were playing there with the stones, sand and cement. To bathe in mud and play holi with the sand had its own charm. The labours working there were never happy with us. Once they got angry and scolded me as I was the one giving instructions to everyone. One of them said, "These scoundrels will ruin the cement. Even a single drop of water can ruin the whole sack."
It was just enough to provoke me and take the revenge. In the evening when they left for their home after their daily work, I reached there with my gang and opened the tap. We ran back to home.
In the morning I went there to get an idea of the situation. All the sacks filled with cement were covered with water.
The labours came to my home and complained to my papaji, "Saheb, this eldest girl is a Shaitan. She has ruined all the sacks of the cement. Punish her for what she has done or we will break her legs if she comes in our vision." Papaji had to pay for the cement that we had ruined.
I hid myself behind the curtains for about an hour, singing some english songs, "He is a boy. They are men. Let me enjoy. I wish to fly in the sky. La la la la laaa." These were the only few sentences that I could frame at that time.
Papaji couldn't find me to teach me a lesson with few strong slaps. When he was having his lunch he saw me playing with the tail of a dog. He asked me to leave it but I kept on playing. Without finishing his lunch he ran after me but couldn't catch me. After some time he got tired and sat in a corner. I went near him and asked him to slap me. But he just looked at me, smiled and then got busy with his work. May be he recalled his own childhood and saw himself in me that day.
It was an other day. May be some holiday. I played for about 3 to 4 hrs in the intense heat and in the evening returned home. We used to start with a game and never ended with that. If we started with kit kit, we might be finishing it with wrestling or some debate of the extreme level. After I came home, Maa didn't ask me many questions as she too was extremely tired. She just asked us to study for a few hours for which of course we sat but did everything else than reading books. I showed my authority on my younger siblings. Even if they used to get a chocolate, they had to share it with me. I had such power at that time that my chores were completed by my younger siblings. "Hey, get me a glass of water, " and the glass would be ready, "Hey, bring my pencil box and sharpen my pencil," and it would be done.
In the morning maa used to be too agitated to be handled, thinking about the whole day she had to pass with kids like us and her unwelcomed guests. She should have been a detective if not just the housewife. She could sense each and every change that no one could have observed. She looked at my bare foot and said, "Hey, where are your new chappals? I didn't see that yesterday when you came from your field. What did you do with them? Did you lose it again? "
I looked at my feet and couldn't recall anything but maa was not ready to listen to me at that point. She made an announcement, "If you don't get your chappals then don't come home. Stay wherever you wish to."
It was 7 in the morning when I went out. For two hours I wandered all around but in vain. I was scared to go home. I was sure if I had entered home, maa would have washed me like the dirty clothes.
So I sat near an old wall just sharing my problems with them. There was some shining stone in one of the fissure of the wall. I placed my hand in the hole just to scream in my loudest voice. But no one could listen me there. I had seen a little snake in that fissure which kissed my ring finger. I ran upstairs to tell everyone that I was going to die. I got my younger sister there and said her about the snake bite. Horror could have been personified that day. My maa and buwa broke their glass bangles as if I had already died. Then my papaji took his lungi and using that made a big knot to tie my wrist so that the poison would not spread.On a bike like 'three idiots' I was taken to the hospital. It was 10am by then. The hospital used to open by 10:30am. Still the compounder there cut my finger with a blade and said, "Now the poison won't pass in your body."
The whole day I was in the hospital under the surveillance of the doctors. I was neither allowed to drink water nor sleep. However I've never felt such thirst to that level till date. No one was offering me water for the dry throat though it was passed through the saline. Everyone who came to visit me asked the same story, "How did the snake bite you?" I really don't remember how many times I'd repeated the same story. But these visitors as well as the doctor's didn't allow me to close my eyes. By 8pm I was relieved and sent back to home with my family. Then I really understood and experienced how much my family loved me.
My maa and papaji didn't touch water till they were assured that I was safe.
As wasn't as mischievous in the school as I was at my home. My teachers loved me a lot. I have not forgotten my class teacher Lizy miss, who taught us Maths.Oh,so sweet she was. Sahji sir (my childhood crush) who taught us English and had been the funniest teacher I've ever met and then we had Bizu sir whose general knowldge lessons I've not forgotten yet. They were just excellent and whatever I'm today, I'll give most of my achievements credits to them though I couldn't find them anywhere after the school days. They moved to Australia, America, Canada, as I came to know from my school's principal when I went to visit my school after my tenth.
Getting back to my behaviour. It was too much for my parents to bear me anymore. Afterall a girl should be humble and quiet but not bubbly like me. My parents were advised that I should be sent to the girl's hostel. I don't know what kind of fascination it brought in my childhood life, I just wanted to go to the girl's hostel in Bansthali (India's best girl's hostel was known to be there). I saw the prospectus and fell in love with that place. Oh! That horse riding scene, those taikwando dresses, the special uniform, the huge well maintained playground and those smiling faces printed on the prospectus were so appealing that I started to prepare for the entrance exam of that school.
The only thing was that there the admissions started from class 6th and I had given the final examination of my 4th grade. But that was not an issue as my age was higher than the 4th graders as I started school with three schools. (I'd been in nursery thrice. As my papaji was experimental. Third time he got the better school and I continued there.)
My papaji had struggled a lot to get a good tutor for us. I have a few faded memories of the ones whom I troubled so much that they had to run away not to return. But there is always an end of every power. Finally papaji got someone who was much more crueller than me. Oh! Just recalling him is so painful, I don't know how I'd to adress him as 'sir' for almost a year. I felt myself as a guinea pig. His punishments were such that I wanted to be like 'Foolan Devi'(the lady goon). He used to ask me to stand with my hands straight hanging up for more than an hour just for not doing the homework. For a single mistake he used to place a pen in between my fingers and pressed it as hard as he could.
Once I couldn't remember the whole grammar book he had copied in my notebook and I hid it somewhere. For that he gave me several pokes from the sharp edge of the pen on my head. I can never forget that unbearable pain. But I was not as lucky as the kids of this generation where the teachers don't have any right even to touch or use any kind of sarcasm for the students.
He promised my parents that he would prepare me for the Banasthali's school.
Before he could say me anything, I finished all the exercises of Maths, science and English within two months.
He said to my papaji, "I've trained the rotten girl. Now she can perform better and can appear for any competition."
I knew what he had done, just generated a fear in my petty mind and I didn't want to give him any chance to show his excellency over me. At one point I was so fed up of that tutor that I just wanted to run away from my own house at any cost.
Anyhow, now I was ready for the test and was determined to get a place in my dream school.
The things never go in the way you wish. It may come to you but you might have forgotten that meanwhile. A new Bengali renter came as our new neighbour. My papaji used to choose his renters in the same way as any father chooses a groom for his daughter. The Bengali ayuvaidic doctor qualified on the terms and conditions of papaji and stayed in our flat that was for rent.
He too had a daughter and she was luckily of my age. To add on, she was in a hostel but not in Banasthali. Now my papaji got all the information from that renter about the hostel which can be considered as "Sasti Banasthali". He impressed papaji in such manner that within a week papaji took me there with the whole family. And the best thing was that this Sasti Banasthali had classes starting from 1st grade. So there wasn't any issue in getting admission in the 5th grade.
I was still dreaming for my Bansthali school and its presentations. But there was something else waiting for me.
It was the June of 1996. The whole family reached there. It looked like a deser. My heart was throbbing. I begged papaji, "Please papaji, don't even think of leaving me here. I may die here. There is nothing like the school I've always dreamt for."
Papaji said, "Don't worry beta! If you don't like I won't leave you here. We are just checking this place. Assessing the things. You give the test and then we will decide."
I went for the entrance test. To the examiner's surprise I finished the paper within half an hour which was scheduled for 3hrs. None of my answers were incorrect. Getting impressed with my performance, the examiner gave me the questiom paper for the 6th grade. That too was done within another half an hour and yes, all correct. So now the examiner gave me the paper for the 7th grade admission. Oh! That too was not tough for me. Except the two questions: What is light and what do we learn in chemistry.
I got 75% marks in the assessment. Within three hours it was decided that I should get the admission in 7th grade. After doing all the formalities, my parents left me saying that they will come next sunday and if I didn't like the place they would take me home.
Since 2nd June when my parents left me in the hostel it was not possible to spend even a single day there. I couldn't feel the warmth there but alienated. I used to address my class students as 'didi' and they used to laugh at me.
I still remember how I asked many of the girls in the first meeting itself, "Will you be my best friend?"
I don't know what was written on my face no one became my friend. And this loneliness made me sick. I couldn't even go to the school because of the high fever. There was a seperate hostel for the sick children. It's name was 'Arogya Bhavan'. Almost 10 hostels were there in the huge campus. It was not less than a village but looked very artificial as is shown in the movies ('Sholey' or 'Bibi ho to Aisi').
I stayed there in the Arogya Bhawan for about a week. From the roof of the Arogya Bhawan the road was visible. I used to stand there for hours waiting for my parents everyday. Every jeep that used to cross looked like my father's and brought back dying life in me just like a short breeze on the hottest summee day. This waiting had become intolerable for me. I just wanted to run away from that foreign land. I heard about a few girls who tried to run away but were caught by the guards. But I should have really ran away if I knew how to go back home. My home was about 12hrs distance from the hostel. (distance was not such but the road condition was the trouble that time.)
Till Sunday I waited in the sick hostel hoping that by then my parents would definitely come. But they didn't. I cried the whole day and night on that Sunday and became worse. Now I felt somewhere that my parents had got rid of me. They must have forgotten me as I was just a trouble maker for them. I knew that no one was going to come back just for a girl like me. Still in my painful cry I tried to send them messages through wind, through sun, through moon and stars. Unfortunately my pain never reached them. On Monday noon I came back to the hostel to take something from my luggage box kept in the hostel. What I saw there was horrible. Till then I had only heard about thieves in stories or news but it was before my eyes. I saw the old hostel warden taking oil from one basket, soap from other, money from a purse of some girl. I just watched her like detective and after watching her doing the same thing for an hour I slipped out. That evening I was sent back to the hostel as my fever had subsided. Physically I was better but psychologically I remained the same.
Our hostel was quite big one named 'Magadh'. All the students of 7th & 8th grade, almost 100 girls stayed there in that huge hall. How fortunate I had been that I got the same old thief warden, Shail didi as my neighbour. The way she used to see, I felt all the witches of the fairy tales smiling at me. Next morning at 4am a bell rang and that old lady started to shout with the bell, "Aye idle girls, scoundrels, fools, idiots, bastards wake up! Wake up! Do your work. "
I was surprised at such time what work was allotted and why she was abusing all the girls just to wake them up. However cluesless I was that didn't matter much. I too had to wake up and got a broom like all the other girls to clean the hostel and campus.
Yes, all the hostel chores were done by the girls there. No maid, no staff. Girls did everything. That was the start of the day. By 5am everyone had to run for the physical training and yoga for 1 and half hour and then by 7am we were there in the long line waiting for our breakfast.
Within 15 minutes we finished our breakfast and reported in the school hall for the prayer which was not so far away from the hostels.
Then at 12pm we used to get our lunch but the best part was that we couldn't touch it till 12:30pm by then all the 600 girls used to be served. We didn't sit idle for that half an hour. We had to recite Geeta's 4th or 5th chapter and then a few 'doha' in unison. I loved that though. That mesmerizing music still hovers somewhere in my memories.
After lunch we had our school till 2:15 pm. By 2:30pm we reached our hostel and then we had our study hour till 4pm. Then we used to get evening snacks just to be geared for the second set of work. Again in the evening we had to repeat the same cleaning process what we had done at 4am.
After that only we used to get two hours to have our gala time. To do whatever we loved to do. Either in the library, in the music or dance class or in the huge playground of the school the girls used to be scattered based on their preferences.
It took me time but became clear to me that I could neither get a space in music nor in dance as the girls there were fixed who were very close to the trainers.
I lost my playful nature. I lost my vigour. And yes my childhood was killed there. No more fond memories. That wound has not healed yet, it will be buried with my body of this life.
So I chose painting as my hobby and spent the rest of my hostel's life in the school library. I swallowed almost all the books that I could access at that time.
In the hostel, I saw that old lady stealing again. I didn't know whom to say and what to say, I was so scared of that lady. She was like a nightmare personified in a lady. So with that fear, I wrote on the wall with a pencil, "Sujata didi, Shail didi is thief." Sujata didi was the head of all the wardens, the hostel supritendent, the eldest daugter of the director of that hostel.
I don't know how but no one noticed that for about 10 days. One fine evening the supritendent came for the inspection to assess the neatness of the hostel. I don't know again why the girls became so nervous before her arrival. It was the same nervousness that any novice has before facing an interview. She saw what was written on the wall. By that time the coma of what I had written was lost.
So furious she was, at the same moment she assessed the writing of all the girls. I was not there but spending my best time in the library. Still the writing matched with a girl. Though she didn't accept even after a forceful slap which reddened her chick, people sorted out the case considering her the culprit.
Like fire this thing reached in the library too. Girls were talking, "Why did that new girl write on the wall? We all know that budhiya is thief. But we have never written anywhere! And how dare she tell such a thing about Sujata didi. She won't stop there, there must be something more for her."
Ranju, the poor girl was as poor as me. She too was a depressed new girl. And to add on to her suffering it was more than enough.
I left the book I was reading in the library and ran towards the hostel. She was still crying in pain. I felt guilty and gathering all confidence I said loudly, "I've written that thing. I should get the punishment if that's to be given."
The whole hostel was dumbstruck. One of them said, "You mad girl, why did you say that Sujata didi is thief? Now she won't leave you. Go to her. "
There were senior girls of twefth grade in the other part of our hostel. With my honesty and confidence they were impressed and showed concern for me. I explained to them that I didn't say anything wrong about Sujata didi but just addressed the thing to her.
Sujata didi was relaxed to listen that she was not the thief.
Days kept on passing like that without any chamge. All my expectations and dreams were already dead by then. I didnt wait for my parents on sundays anymore.
All the girls were impatiently waiting for this day. It was 28th of August, the day of Rakhi. All the sisters were too excited for their brothers. One by one the girls were called as their parents were arriving. It was not a sunday so I knew my parents were not coming. I had already accepted my fate. I just shed tears and kept lying on my bed. Something was burning within and may be I in such agonical state my soul would have left. My life had some other plans, it didn't let me go so easily.
An anouncement that gave life to my dying hear at 11 am on that very day, "Anupam Jha, your parents have come. Go and meet them."
I didn't even wear my slippers and ran as fast as I could on the path that made up of stones of all sizes. My whole family had come to meet me. My daddu and baba (gradparents) were also there. I just stared at them for how long that I don't remember but said nothing. Not even comolained. But they were surprised to see me as so cultured and wekl behaved girl. The girl who never stopped babbling and chit chatting how come she was so quiet. They gave me sweets. Took me for a ride but I just kept on begging, "Please, don't leave me here. I'll do as you say but just don't leave me here. I will be a good girl at home but can't live here." But everyone had already fixed up the minds. They were happy with my transformation. After all, girls should be quiet. How conserved they are that much better the fortune of family is estimated.
To console me they assured that they would take me home but the next day they had to leave me forcibly taking the help from the guard. Those shrieks are still haunting me when I just begged, "Papaji, please don't leave me here. Papaji, I'll never ask for anything just take me home." No one could listen to my broken heart along with those cries. And then my one life ended.
After six months when my papaji came to take me home for the winter vacation, I wasn't willing to go to that place where people had almost forgotten me. I went to South India trip where I had experienced my best moments of childhood but not as a child, as a matured lady.
Anyhow, I spent four years in the same state killing all my dreams. To be very frank, I never saw any dream there. Nightmares didn't scare me in my sleep as they were there with me in the daylight.
There I used to just read and write. I hated to talk with anyone and to avoid the company of the other prisoners I spent my days and night in quititude in the box room where the luggage boxes of all the girls were kept. The girls who wanted to study in peace used to come there. My journey of writing started there. I remember once I wrote ten page of letter to my papaji but never got a reply of that. Every week we used to get a postcard to write letters to our relatives. I don't remember how many letters I had written but I wrote to each and every relative of mine. All the letters was read by the supritendent before getting posted and also the letters received by the girls was read by the authorities before reaching them. So my letters left a good impression on our director, whom we addressed as 'Bhaijee'. He used to refer me as Sanyasini as I always looked lost somewhere like holy saints. As he said that to me. With that motivation of appreciation I used to show him my poems.
All the girls were divided into groups from A to P (based on what I remember). Each group had almost 30 girls from all the classes. Each group was allotted with a different task everyday, which included roti making, cutting vegetables, arranging tables for the lunch and dinner, cleaning toilets and washrooms, cleaning school campus etc. Bhaijee used to be there most of the time to check the girls how they were accomplishing their task. I respected him a lot. But all that respect was washed away from my immature mind one day.
It was the celebration of the new year for the first time on 1stJanuary, 2000. Stall of sweets and chat were organized for the girls. We were serious for our tenth examination ahead. So we went there after all the girls had theirs. Bhaijee was picking up the paper plates, spoons and wrappers those were scattered on the ground. Looking at him we too started to do the same. After finishing the cleanliness drive photos were taken. Bhaijee called me, "Hey Sanyasini! Come here! Don't you want a picture with me." I felt honoured with this invitation. Instantly I uttered, "Why not!"
Bhaijee said, "You are a brahmin and I'm a Bhoomihar. So I'm attacking you with a sword, you use your shield."
I didn't like the idea and said, "Why such nautanki (drama)? We can have bettee picture by just standing."
He pulled me towards him and tried to grip me tightly for the photograph. I just pushed him and ran away from there. At that point of time no one had taught me about good touch or bad touch but I didn't feel good with that grip. It didn't end there. It was just a petty incident (as per my view). I didn't talk about this with anyone. In the evening, in our evening prayer in which every day Bhaijee used to give a long monotonous speech before the dinner he took the revenge from me. In his whole speech he made me feel guilty for what I had done. He stressed the same thing, "There is a girl in our holy hostel who thinks that there can be only one relation in between a man and woman. And that too just the physical one. These kind of girls are a threat to our society. We need to throw them away."
That day I felt very strong as I didn't cry. I just thought if I could spend four years in this hell, spending other 3 months won't be much difficult for me.
The next morning when I went to the school. My sanskrit teacher who used to see his lost daughter in me asked me, "Beta, whatever has happened with you is not good. These people are demons. They can do anything. You just stay safe."
As he said I burst out. How could that trifle reached the school campus. It was just absurd. But whom to complain and what to complain. The matter faded with time.
All the girls were touching the feet of Bhaijee for the blessings before leaving for their first exam. I too went to them and said, "Bhaijee, I'm sorry if unitentionally I hurt you. It was instantaneous, I didn't mean to hurt your sentiments. Considering me as your young child forgive me.Please bless me for my examination."
He snatched away his leg as if I was to place a bomb there and said, "You scoundrel! Nasty fellow! Rotten Insect! You will teach me. I'll show you what I can do. Let the result come and you will see what you have sown. Your parents will not get space even to hide their face. Go to hell."
I went for the examination. I saw people asking questions, passing chits but I didn't notice anyone. I went to the head examiner telling him the scenario of the exam room, he said, "Let them do that or else they will fail. Why to waste one more year! You too can do what they are doing."
I clicked a few pictures of the chits and cheating procedures. To my misfortune or their fortune, my camera roll got spoiled and I didn't get except a few pics. I was determined and stubborn throughout the examination. I neither helped anyone nor took help.
Finally that day arrived when I had to leave that rotten place. I felt like a bird who had been released from the prison walls. I was back with my parents. But what distance they had created in my heart that was never crossed. I never became close to eaither my maa or papaji.
I was eagerly waited for my result as based on my estimation I should not have got less than 90%. When my result was revealed I couldn't accept it as my result as my performance had never beem so poor. In Sanskrit I had already calculated the mistakes with my teacher and found that I might not lose more than 5 marks. But my marks!! It was a terrible slap on my face. I got the result not for my performance but for being revolutionary.
This was the end of my worst phase of life. Though I've seen each and every kind of adversities till date but what dreadful experience I had there in the hostel cannot be compared with anything else.
I stayed revolutionary till I got married.
There are a few things which if not disclosed then only it looks better.
Thanks for being so patient!
.........The End.........
©Anupam Mishra
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