When to the sessions of sweet silent thought, I summon up remembrance of things past, - W. Shakespeare (Sonnet 30)
That day I flashed in my mind. Caught and squeezed in the roller coaster of a 24X7 schedule my heart had been yearning for a respite from the last few days. I wanted to escape from all the hurry and bustles and I did not mind even if it was for a few days. So, on one fine morning finally, I opened my heart to my travelholic Dad, "Dad, I want to see nature, want to feel it". "Okay," he said with a pause and a curious questioning look, “but you'll have your exams shortly....". "Oh! I am talking about the vacation, Dad. Can we use it? Assuming his confusion I said interrupting him. "Let's see, he said with a mysterious smile.
So, the vacation was dedicated to a precious tour of a remote village on the border of a forest, a hamlet with altogether ten families, standing on the slanting slope of a rivulet. The place was blessed with nature's bounty and I made full use of my much-earned repose.
The village was not a formal tourist spot. Neither it was explored by any travel-lover. It was rather an invention of my father. There was no guest house in the village. But by chance, if there were any outsiders for some reason, they were heartily welcomed by the villagers and were treated as guests. There was no electricity, no radio, no mobile network. Poverty showed its very presence in every face. But there was no dearth of love, honesty, simplicity, and peace. Life here walks at a snail's space. So when they found some Kolkatans curious about their own little country, those ever-smiling faces were treated with the utmost care. We spent the unforgettable fortnight as the guests to all of them. We were allowed to stay in a thatched hut and it made no odds. I did not mind even if it would be for a few da
Our day started and ended with every possible gift from nature and the love of the people. Their language was strange. They did speak Bengali but with a very different accent. This was so alien to me. And that of mine was very interesting and funny to them, I guess. Yet we loved each other, and we became a family.
And then came the day when we happened to meet her. Sitting on the thick carpet of rich green grass Dad and I were grasping the beauty of Nature with the eyes and the hearts. There was no school and girls were treated as simply as some marriage material born to raise a family. So, no question of girls' education at all. Boys however were allowed to attend the schools of the nearby villages. Now we were crowded by some girls aged from eight to eighteen. They were looking at us curiously.
"What are your names"? I started a conversation randomly.
"Meena, Riya, Shilpi... They started to open up slowly.
"Have you ever studied?" I asked with the anticipation of a negative answer
"Ya, I have...." Someone shouted from them giving us a shake.
I searched for the voice. A dusky face looked out. She was not beautiful but there was something in her eyes that made her special among the group. What the name she said...? Yes.Shilpi
"Really? How far?"
"Well, I can only write my name...."Shilpi continued with a Pause “I used to live with my grandparents in my childhood at another village near New Jalpaiguri. There was a kind teacher. He taught me". Shilpi said with a half-hearted satisfaction.
"Ok, that's good... So, what do you do now?"
"Don't you see?" Shilpi blurred out." I have nothing to do here. I am just supposed to wait for marriage". The sparkle of her eyes was gone. There were clear signs of poverty in her teenage frame. So, it was irrelevant to ask further questions.
But my dad looked deep into her eyes. as if he was searching for something and had found it. I knew him. Without creating much ado, he directly threw the question - "Do you want to study further?" I was surprised. So, was she. ”What do you mean?" she echoed in my mind." look child, if you want to study you can come with us to our home in Kolkata. Shilpi stared at us blankly. Other girls looked at each other.
"How is that possible? My family won't let me go." "Well, we can talk with them", my dad assured her.
And it was not very difficult to persuade them. Her mother -a poor aged widow and two elder farmer brothers had enough love for her. It was no doubt a golden opportunity for the family who lived from hand to mouth. Besides Shilpi was the only girl in the village who could write her name though with an unripe fist. The villages were ignorant but not heartless. And Shilpi won the heart of them by the lively vibes of her gleeful nature. She was the common object of affection. So, nobody wanted to miss the chance. Finally, Shilpi flew with us to Kolkata. And the rest is indeed history.
From the airport to our home Shilpi gaped at every sight. The skyscrapers, the streets, the people -- all were wonders for her. For the first day, she did not speak much except when we called her. She was afraid of the sudden change of intonation.
"Here's your room, Shilpi". I showed her the small room.
"What will I do with a whole room Didi?" she said anxiously. Her eyes could not move from the view of the room. “I don't need a room, or the bed or the table.... I will be comfortable on the floor itself". There was a child-like simplicity in her voice." Okay, but here you will sleep on the bed sit on the stool, and keep your stuff on the table and cupboard". I replied smilingly to keep it short and simple as it was not high time to teach about the importance of rooms. But she was enough intelligent to understand it.
The first few days were a struggle for Shilpi. The accent, the people, the dress, and the manners give her a jolt. He was surprised to see that the milk water flowers etc. were to be bought. He was surprised to see the public toilets and the long queue in front of them. She was surprised so much that once she confused the ATM with a public toilet. The rash in the city and the underground metro stunned her.
We had to struggle too. It was almost a revolution to give her a makeover. Gradually her looks were transformed from a mal-nutrified village- maiden to a clean girl with a neat braid. Shilpi gave away her habit of chewing beetle leaves.
Shilpi was still engrossed in the dazzles of Kolkata and we were engrossed in giving her a confident look. Her lessons did not begin yet when we visited the local fair where she passionately bought a cheap wristwatch. Happy to flaunt it on her wrist Shilpi stumbled on her way back home. “what’s the time" a lady asked her on the bus. Gosh! She did not know how to read time. Neither does she know if anybody can ask her like that. With a puzzled look she asked me back "What's the time?" the lady smiled sarcastically to see such an unusual sight. It left her red-faced.
She then started her journey from darkness to light. We could not provide her with any professional education. But we the two earnestly taught her reading writing and speaking the Bengali language as well as gave her alphabetical knowledge in English. Her strong determination and willpower made our homely classes a big success. Shilpi leaves no stone unturned. She stayed with us for five long years and in front of our eyes, she grew up to be an educated and well-mannered young girl with a strong sense of good morals.
Shilpi has a strong sense of self-respect. She willingly managed all domestic chores in return for receiving education. Sometimes she wrote letters to her home hoping that some educated boy would read them to her illiterate family. These 5 years were stripped of pleasure and pathos. Shilpi stood by us always. Yes, once again we became a family. We grew more like sisters. My dad was hers also.
She did not want to go back. Neither do we want to leave her. But some worldly views drove Dad to give are back to the village." you came here with a purpose. I saw this person of today in you that very day. So, I brought you with us. But you owe a lot to your village, to your family who staked their reputation for you. Now it's time to hold their heads high, my dear daughter." He told a tearful Shilpi. And this was enough to motivate her.
"Hello.... hello...Baba! Can you hear me? Hello... it's Shilpi here...."
A familiar voice came from a distance after almost two years. In between Shilpi, it was used to write letters informing us about her. But this was her first call.
"How are you, Baba? How is Didi?" The voice was choked with happiness and excitement.
"Yes Shilpi, I can hear you. We are fine. But where are you calling from?"
"It's my phone Baba. My very own mobile phone. I have bought it"
"What?! Wow! But..."
"I know baba you're surprised. I have two more things to show you for your pleasure. I think you will be wonder-struck. Please pay a visit to our village and come to our home ASAP. Pronam and bye." The call gave us a mysterious joy. Now managing our schedule once again we hurried to that village again, the once pleasure spot.
Shilpi was waiting at the bus- stop for us. She was looking like a serious teacher. Clad in a saree, the dusky girl was smiling. As soon as we got down from the bus, the whole village proceeded to welcome us. Before we could understand anything, we had to proceed with them.
"Oh! look! The huts were replaced by small brick-built houses. Electricity posts were standing proudly. The clean water of the rivulet with its well-guarded sides baffled us. Have we reached the wrong place? Look! There is a primary school also. Surely, we made a mistake “We were chatting. “No Didi, you have not. Shilpi interrupted with a smile.
We stared at her with surprise. “I did these with the help of the Panchayet". She smiled shyly. This is a free primary school. Two teachers are there. But I voluntarily superintendent the school. Besides I work at the Anganwadi and teach at the evening school." She continued with sparks in her eyes. And we could not interrupt her. Her joy knew no bounds. She took me to her house. To standard living rooms with a separate kitchen and a toilet. But the scene in one room was even more surprising. Her mother clads in a milky white saree and specs on her eyes were hearing one of her brothers engaged in reading newspapers. They also were very glad to see us. The mom offered us sweets and guava.
After spending some time, we went outside.
We were encompassed by Shilpi and her friends and others. Some pupils were there too. The cultured surroundings in the lap of nature's part made us emotional. I was speechless. My dad's eyes brimmed with tears of joy. It was like he was seeing his little plant grow into a Bunyon." reach for the stars" -- a cry of excitement from my joyous Dad. I heard and saw the listeners standing motionless. Shilpi broke the silence. “it’s all because of you", sad Shilpi. But we are not listening to that.
We slowly advanced towards our private car bound for the airport. True that once she was our protege but mutual love and faith and her unperturbed ambition have made her the Shilpi of today.
An airplane flew upwards. It was looking like a pearl drenched in the sunshine. Shilpi looked up. We too.