A car carrying memories.

25 years is a lot of time to remember someone.  In these 25 years there was no communication between us. But we did not forget.  In the year 1987 we were living at Hardwar in the BHEL town ship. Mr. Subroto Banerjee and Mrs. Mukta Banerjee were living in front of our quarter with their three children. Banerjee dada was my husband’s senior colleague.  We were very close to them because dada’s funny jokes & talks, and boudi (elder brother’s wife) was a very kind and adorable person. The year 1989 when my younger son was born, boudi stayed with me the whole night at the hospital. She took care of me and my child. In 1990 summer they were transferred to Nagpur and left Hardwar forever. Gradually memories fade away.

Few days ago we visited one of our good friends – Probir and Maloti Ghosh at Nagpur. Ghoshes took us to Banerjee-da’s place. There we met Banerjee family again after a gap of 25 years. Now we all have grown old. Dada and boudi welcome us very warmly.  We talked about good old Hardwar days. Dada asked “How is my DHA?”

Dada had a Fiat car, a Premier Padmini. The colour of that was light brown top and dark brown bottom.  The number plate of the car showed [DHA 650]. My husband did not want a car at that time because we were happy with our two wheeler. His all friends and colleagues had their own car. Meanwhile dada was planning to purchase a new Maruti car so he wanted to dispose his Fiat.

One evening I was standing on the balcony. My children were playing in the park. Suddenly I saw dada was coming. He parked the car in front of my house.  He got down from the car and pulled a rope from behind seat, then he tied the car with the tree which was standing in front of my quarter as if it were a horse or cow. I called dada “What are you doing?”  He said “I am leaving this car with Abhijit, tell him to settle the things.”  I said “He is not at home.” Dada said “Who cares…..”   and walked towards his home.

Now DHA was ours. We explored nearby areas with it. The car was very spacious. Two families could easily be accommodated in it. Most of the Sundays we went for a long drive with our friends. But any Sunday if we stayed at home for any reason that day Abhijit invariably went to Munna (the only car mechanic in BHEL township) with his DHA. 

One winter Sunday morning Subramanium family came to our home and we planned to go to Rishikesh, but DHA 650 was not in a mood to go. So it did not start. Subramanium opened the bonnet and tried to fix it. My son Pakku said “Uncle chorr do, DHA nahi chalegi” (Uncle leave it. It will not move.) Subramanium said “Kaise nahi chalegi? Sa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, DHA sab chala dunga”.  (How will it not Start? I can start the whole octave Sa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, DHA, Ni.) But the car did not start and we celebrated picnic in our lawn and made a plan to go to Corbett National Park. The place was 250 Km from Haridwar and decision had been taken that the DHA will go.

On 13^th April 1993, we started from home at 6:30 am with two sleepy kids.  We picked up Subramanium, Ramani and their two sleepy kids.  We reached Nazimabad at 7:30. DHA had a problem. The brake fluid started leaking and suddenly the brake failed. Fortunately Abhijit realised the problem when there was no traffic in front of DHA. So we stopped there and searched a mechanic to fix it.  I and Ramani fed our kids. We started again. At Ramnagar  Abhijit refuelled the car then at 2:30 we reached Dhangarhi  the main entrance of the national park.  We had a booking inside the park.  The name of that place was Dhikaala. From the main gate distance was 50 km.approx. There were no tarmac roads. The road between Dhangarhi and Dhikala was gravelled a long time ago, but had not been repaired ever since. One could see traces of the old tarmac cover on the road with lots of pebbles and rubbles. There were long stretches where no signs of tarmac road was to be seen – only pebbles and raw soil beneath the loose pebbles.  Kids were in very good mood. All of a sudden we got a pungent smell of petrol inside the car. My husband stopped the car. Subramanium and he went out. There was a trail of petrol coming out from the Petrol tank. They tried to block it by stuffing polythene bags, but the leakage could not be stopped and we saw all the petrol flow out on the road. Chinna (Ramani’s younger daughter) said “I have been seeing the trail of petrol for a long time now.” We all asked her, “Why didn’t you tell us!?”  She simply replied, “Why should I?” The road from that point was downhill, so we got back in the car. The hand brake was released, and the car started to roll down the road till and ultimately stopped on a river bed cause way. We came out and were pleasantly surprised. All the fuel flew out, because one small piece of stone hit the plug of the petrol tank.   We had to go another 22km to reach Dhikala.  In another 2 hours the sun would have set. Chinna’s questions increased our stress level.

“If a tiger comes, then are we safe in the car or outside the car.”  She asked. Pakku said “In the car, stupid”. Then Chinna continued “If an elephant comes? Then inside or outside the car.”  Her elder sister Smurta retaliated “Stop asking the question!!” But Chinna continued “If elephant sits on the car then are we safe inside the car or outside the car.”  Finally, one jeep going towards Dhikala stopped by.  They gave us a lift up to the destination. We ladies and children reached on the spot but Abhijit and Subramaniam stayed back with the DHA even after dusk.

So there were lots of memories we had with the DHA. It became our family member. In the year 1997 Abhijit transferred to Varanasi. The DHA came with us and we explored the holy (cow) city. Two years later, Abhijit planned to buy a new car. Now we wanted to sell the old car. Those days a grocer came to our house for monthly supplies. He readily wanted to purchase the car. Initially he agreed to pay 10000Rs. But later on, he gave only Rs. 8000 – Rs. 6000 cash and the remaining Rs. 2000 as groceries. The DHA always lived in our memories since then.

So, coming back to the present from my brief trip to nostalgia, I told dada that the DHA is still in our hearts.  After 25 years, another evening was added to our memories.  My respect to both of you.

Being bad is sometimes good.

If I am polite or talk normally with someone according to their wish or preferences, then I am a good person. But if I tell them my wish or my dislikes then I am a bad person to him or her. This is human nature. In my childhood whenever I raised my voice or said anything in a irritable way, my father would hold my hands tight and ask me to say the same thing politely. This prophecy made my behavior controlled and helped me become popular within my friend circle.

This incident happened in the year 1987.  That was the last week of June. I was in Varanasi with my in laws.  After spending quiet a good time with them I was returning to Haridwar, where my Husband used to work at that time. Those days there was no e-ticketing system so either me or my father in law would have to go to the station to buy a reservation ticket.   That month of June was scorching hot in U.P. and it was very difficult to stand in a queue under the sweltering heat.

My friend Ranjana, who was from Haridwar, was also in Varanasi with her parents. Her father was (and still is) a resource full person, so I requested him to book my ticket to Haridwar along with Ranjana’s.  He said “Ho jayega beta.” (It will be done). 

The day was a Friday. I do not remember the date. The train was Doon Express and those days there was no A.C. coach in that train. Our reservation was in a first class coupe.  We had four reserved berths. One for me, one for Ranjana and two for Sona  Guriya (Rajana’s children) and  Pakku (my child). The kids were on half ticket.  At 9 am Ranjana picked me from my home and we headed for the railway station in her father’s official jeep. Sanju (Dr. Sanjiv  Sharma),  her younger brother accompanied us. In the jeep she asked Sanju “If Raghubir does not come with ticket then….?”  Sanju said “Aaa jayega.” (He will come).  I was shocked.  “If Raghubir doesn’t turn up in time, and if we didn’t have tickets by then, how………?”  Sanju  interrupted  “Don’t worry." I looked at  Rajana who  looked worried.  She asked Sanju that what if that fellow arrived late or if he could not get reservation for us?  Sanju said in very relax way “Then you girls can always return back home. What’s the problem?” However, I understood that I would be in a problem. At the station that Raghubir was waiting with the ticket and we felt relieved.  I asked Ranjana to show me the ticket. She passed the piece of paper to me. It was a paper ticket with names of passengers written on it. I took a good look and screamed. It was a confirm reservation ticket with individual names. The names are like this:

Ranjana Dube

Abhishek Dube (Sona)

Anjali Dube (Guriya)

Minu Dube

Abhinav Dube (Pakku)  

I protested “If the ticket checker challenges me over this name, then what I will do?” Sanju said, “How will that man know that you are not Dube but Banerjee.  And besides that, you can always tell him that you are my sister.” (Those days there were no e-ticket and identity proof was not asked.)

The train had arrived about an hour late.  Our seats were already occupied by lot of people. Sanju, Raghubir and the jeep driver carried and put luggage under our seats. We somehow settled down. Most of them said that they will get down at the next stop.  One husband wife said they will go to Lucknow. A middle age man with two women said that they will go to Haridwar.

Soon, the journey began. I told the man with two woman, “Please get down or change the seat from Lucknow.” In the evening 7o’clock the train reached Lucknow junction. The husband and wife got down. They thanked us and said sorry for our inconvenience. We said “Good Bye.”  The other man with two women was still on our berth. I said “You should leave.” He said “Oh no. We will go along with you.”  I retorted back, “This is my reserved seat and I have paid extra money to the railways for little comfort.” The man laughed out aloud. My head busted with anger. I raised my voice a little and said “Leave immediately”.  The man stood up, so I also stood up and shouted at him with full volume,  "Leave  immediately… or… I will pull the chain… I will call the police..." From my right hand I snatched a bag of his belonging and threw it outside the coupe.  Ranjana held on to my left hand tightly. Three - four men came outside the coupe.  I stretched my right hand with my finger pointed outside and shouted “GET OUT!” The women left the cope and then the man dragged his suitcase under the berth and left. Ranjana released left my left hand. I shut the coupe door with a big thud.

I sat down on the berth and took few deep breath. Guriya came into my lap. Pakku and Sona looked confused. Then I looked at Ranjana. She was breathing with quick and short breaths.  I got scared as I knew she was a chronic asthma patient. I pat her back gently and children gave her some water. Soon she felt better. She asked me, “Are you ok?”   I said, “Yes. And you?”  She said, “Now I feel better , I never saw you in such state of fury in past 7 years that I have known you. We all thought that you never lose your temper.” I said, “Yes, I am not a short tempered person but that man thought my politeness is my weakness. I  allowed him to sit and he was occupying my berth so I was compelled to throw him out.”

The night fell soon . Rest of the journey was peaceful . The children slept as I and Ranjana chatted until midnight. Train kept moving in the darkness...

Paku pass ho gaya

In the year 1992 in the month of October my elder son's quarterly examinations were going on. Next day he had his Sanskrit  exam. I was in extreme  tension  because he was very weak in languages. I forced him little hard so that he could pass in language subjects and I needed more time to help him in his study - at least 2 hours.

That evening my husband returned from office with a guest. He introduced him to me "My college friend Mr. J.P.Dwivedi.............he is here for some official work." I hid my tension about my son's exam the next day and very politely  welcomed him and after formal greetings I came to the kitchen to prepare tea and snacks.

With the tea tray when I entered  in the living room my younger son Piku was sitting on his lap. He was asking him "Where is your dada (elder brother)".  Piku told him that dada was reading 'pathantu....pathantu'.  "What's that?"  He questioned. Nobody could understand what Piku wanted to express. I explained him "Tomorrow my elder son will be taking his Sanskrit exam so he was trying to memorize the 'shabd roop and dhatu roop'  (part of Sanskrit Grammar)." "Oh! he means पठति, पठतः, पठन्ति' (pathati...pathatha...pathanti.....)" Bhaisahab said. My husband told me to prepare dinner. Meanwhile Sen family came.  Every one was busy with tea and chatting.

Now I had to prepare dinner for our guest. Time passed and I had a tension for exam. My son needed my help. My mind raced - what might happen if he is not able to secure pass marks?  In the  parents- teachers meeting his teacher and his father both will scold me. Oh! forget it, nobody will understand my problem. I came in the kitchen and concentrated in cooking. My husband came into the kitchen and said "Sanyals have come, so please make another round of tea." Then he asked me "Where is Dwivedi gone?" I was surprised "I don't know, he is your friend and you were sitting with him, not me."

More then two hours passed. I finished my cooking and called everyone for dinner. I came to my kids room and saw an amazing scene. The gentleman (Mr. Dwivedi) was sitting on the study table and Piku was hanging on his shoulder. Dwivedi and my elder son Paku were talking happily. Amazing!!! It seemed that they knew each other since long.  I called them for dinner. My tension remained inside me.

Time passed. After a couple of weeks there was the dreaded 'Parents - Teachers Meeting.' I and my kids went to the school. I was mentally  prepared to listen to a lot of complaints about our elder son from his class teacher Mrs. Shreenivasan . When I entered the classroom Mrs. Shreevasan was surrounded by parents. I said "Good morning." She raised her head and said " Oh! Mrs. Banerjee...before I show you the result, would you please meet with Mrs. Verma in room number 17? She wants to talk to you."  Me and my son looked at each other. A kind of hopelessness showed up on our faces. Mrs. Verma was his Sanskrit teacher. We went to room number 17. Mrs. Verma joyfully welcomed us and said "Look!  Mrs. Banerjee...I thought that your son could never do well in languages - specially Sanskrit, and I have to struggle to give him minimum pass mark. I am happy that I was wrong. He can do excellent if he wishes so. Now you just see he has got full marks in Sanskrit.  I have cut half a mark because of his poor hand writing ." He got nineteen and half out of twenty. This is first time that he has scored excellent in a language paper.

I remembered Mr. J.P. Dwivedi said that night that Sanskrit was his favorite subject and by mistake he had become an engineer. He had taught Paku for a little less than two hours that day - that too casually - and now he got excellent marks in Sanskrit.

I realised that day, that a good teacher can make any child excellent.  

Memories about a Friend

Barsha is a bright and beautiful girl. She is very poised, well behaved and an intelligent girl. Today, she is a married woman in her mid twenties and is living in a family way. When I got this news from her mother Kabli, I became nostalgic and was transported to a few years in the past.

The little Barsha and her deep black mischievous eyes always drew my attention. She never called me Auntie or Kakima or anything like that. She would call me by my name 'Mini' and claimed me as her friend. When she started to go to school, everyday complains would come from the school or elsewhere about her misdeeds. Her mother used to get disturbed and it would take her 3-4 days to be normal again and as soon as she was normal, a new complaint would come. Lot of parents used to come to me and complain about Barsha as they didn't want to tell anything to her mother and disturb her more.

One day I had gone to attend a Parent - Teacher Meeting in the school and I was busy with my son's class teacher, when someone patted me. I looked back. The lady was my friend. She said "Mini, I want to talk to you about something very important." Her voice expressed that she was in a low mood. After I had finished with my son's class teacher, we came to the lawn. She said in a very wet voice "Look Mini, perhaps you can understand my problem." I was waiting patiently to listen to her. She continued after a few minutes of pause. "Barsha always teases my daughter about her dark complexion. Now my daughter does not want to go to school. The other schools in the township are no good; otherwise I would have admitted her there. Please do me a small favour. Please tell Kabli as I do not want to tell her anything directly." I was confused. I did not say anything to Barsha's mother, but that evening I called Barsha. Barsha rushed to my lap. I asked her "Why do you tease your class mates?" She replied "Class mate... Who... That dark one?" I was shocked. She knows everything she had done. Very politely I told her "Yes that girl. You should not do that. After all, she is your class mate and a friend. Besides that you yourself do not have a fair complexion." Very carelessly she said "So what if I am not fair, but she is dark." I realised that this girl had a much better I.Q. than me. I said "Look Barsha any person may have dark or fair complexion as it is God gifted. You should not criticize God's work. This is the theory of natural selection and..."I almost delivered a theosophical lecture. She pushed her little hand on my mouth and asked "What is God?" I removed her hand from my mouth and said "OH GOD!"

Few days later Kabli came to me with Barsha's school almanac. Her class teacher had written something in red ink. As per the school's rules, whenever they punished a child they informed child's parents. The teacher had written that some other child's mother had complained against Barsha with the school authority and next day Barsha may be punished if the complain was found correct. Kabli broke into tears. "What should I do?" she asked me. After a good thought I said "Be strong and let her go through punishment. I am sure that school will not use the third degree."

Next day Miss Bantta, Barsha's class teacher held Barsha by her ear and dragged her out from the class room to courtyard of the school. There she asked her to stay holding both ears. Barsha asked "Why?" Miss Bantta said in a harsh voice "You have teased a girl just over her dark complexion. This is bad." Barsha said very innocently "So what? You are also very dark." I do not know whether Miss Bantta lost her temper or mind on hearing such a reply.

I came to know that Barsha had not stopped teasing that girl. In the evening, the children were playing in the lobby. I walked up to Barsha and grabbed her. In strong voice I told her "I am kutti (stop talking) with you and never call me your friend." I came back to my flat and shut the door. Four days passed. Meanwhile whenever Barsha met with me in the lobby or any other place, she always tried to draw my attention, but I ignored her.

Fifth day in the noon I finished my son's lunch and asked him "Put out the books from the school bag while I bring back the dry clothes from roof." I opened the door and I saw Barsha was sitting silently outside with both her cheeks on her palm.

I bounced "Barsha! What are you doing here?" Her face looked as if she was extremely sad. I knelt down and asked "What happen?" She said "Why are you kutti (stop talking) with me." I said "You tease your class mate, this is wrong. A wrong person must not be my friend." She climbed up my back and put her little arms round my neck. I said "You promise me that you never hurt that child again." She said "Promise". I stood up taking her on my back. I went to the roof, took the clothes and came back home. I had to help my son in his home work so I asked Barsha to go home. She said "Maa will beat me." Before I could say something she said "You come with me." I had a unpleasant suspicion in my mind, but I went up to her flat. The door was open. I pushed the door. There was a bucket kept upside down near the door. I went inside and peeped in the drawing room. I saw Kabli was lying on sofa bed with a book . She was totally pre occupied with reading. Barsha hid behind me. I made a knocking sound on the door. Kabli looked at me. I asked "Where is Barsha?" She said "She is sleeping in the bed room". I pulled Barsha from behind me. She jumped up and shouted "Barsha!! How did you go outside! I had bolted the door. How did you open it?! Who taught you?!" I understood why the bucket was there. Barsha said innocently "Mini has taught me."

"NOO" I screamed "I did nothing. I never taught her such things. My locking system is different than yours." But I was sure Kabli did not believe me.

Days passed. One evening I met the other child's mother in the market. I asked her about her daughter. She told me very happily that Barsha had stopped teasing her daughter and now they were good friends. Thanks to God. I said "Yes thanks to God." I purchased a big chocolate as I wanted to give Barsha a prize. I directly went her flat. Kabli opened the door and without saying anything she turned back. I did not understand what happened. I kept my bags . Barsha rushed to me and climbed up my lap. Kabli showed me her school almanac without uttering a word. 'Oh God!' another complaint! I settled Barsha on the dinning table and asked her "What did you do this time". she said "I erased Ankit's work book." "What! Why did you do that?" I questioned. She said "His hand writing is very poor." her mother shouted "Taate tor baper ki."(That is not your problem!). Barsha continued "I erased Mohit’s and Abhishek’s and Parul's note book also."

"But why did you do that?" I absolutely did not understand anything. But very innocently she told "I wanted to use my birthday gift"

“Oh no!” I bashed my head by my hand. In her last birthday I gave her a beautiful set of colourful erasers.

My son patted my shoulder and said "Mom you are smiling alone."

I came back to the present.

Yes Barsha always make me smile. Even her memories bring a smile to my life and lips - even today.

Rock and Roll

In the industrial township, our routine was generally the same everyday. 8 o’ clock, all the men went to work, and generally all the ladies were busy in house hold work. Those days I was living on the first floor of a hostel block. There were six two room flats on each floor connected to each other by a 40 feet long lobby. Mostly at half past ten or eleven o’ clock, we ladies were extremely busy in preparing lunch and during this time period we let the kids out in the lobby where they used to play. Out of six families, which used to live on the first floor, only four families had kids. My family was among those four. All the kids were below three years of age. The youngest one was Barsha, just one year and five months old. Her mind and body was so fast that even her parents could not keep up with her, and naturally, had lot of problems managing her. So at about eleven o’ clock everyday, her mother habitually placed her in a walker and tied the walker with a strong rope. Rest of the three kids, including my son, would play and run around in the lobby. Poor Barsha, called them or shouted at them to draw their attention towards herself. I always felt bad for the poor girl. One or two times I asked her mother to untie her, but she said that she is not like other children. If she leaves her then she will surely fall down from the staircase. At that time I thought that though children are innocent and careless, they still have a basic instinct of safety. They don’t go near animals, objects or even places that scare them or will hurt them; like kids don’t go near fire or dogs. I thought that if the atmosphere around them is unknown, any kid would always stick with their parents. Everyday the three kids played. Many times their ball or toys would fall down the staircase but they never dared to climb the staircase down. In such situations they always asked for our help.

One day, out of mercy I untied Barsha. The moment I untied her walker, she tried to run and eventually fell down. I bent down to help her get up on her two legs, but before I could do that, she crawled out of the walker. Her mother was spreading a wet bed sheet on the lobby railing. Barsha started running with her full speed. Her mother screamed, “Oye! Barsha!!” I didn’t understand the situation at that instant. But soon I realized that Barsha was running towards the staircase. Her mother started running behind her. I was still confused but I decided to run after Barsha too. My speed was better than Barsha and her mother. Barsha’s mother was right. Barsha was heading towards the staircase. But before she could raise her feet in the air to step down on the staircase, I grabbed her. Her mother, who was also running to catch her couldn’t stop due to her sheer inertia. She jumped to avoid a collision and fell down the stairs.

Two days later, I made some hot soup for Barsha’s mother. I went to her flat. She was on the bed with blue and black patches on her thighs and back. She was very lucky (or insanely strong for that matter) that she didn’t have any of her bones fractured. She tried to sit up on the bed. I helped her and then fed her the soup. She finally said in a very faint voice, “Why did you untie her?” “I’m ashamed and genuinely sorry for what I’ve done.” I replied. From that day onwards, I promised myself that I would never interfere between ma and daughter.

Sleep baby sleep

One fair weather night it was ten o’clock. Me and my husband were sitting side by side holding our hands. Our son Pakku was playing with his entire fleet of vehicles. I asked Pakku “Come on baby, it is time to sleep”. He looked at me surprisingly and said “Now!”. My husband said “Come on Pakku let us go to bed”, and his reaction was same “Now!” I gave up and told to my husband “It is a very difficult task to make a baby sleep. You may go to bed.” Unknowingly I hurt my husband’s ego. He said, “OK. Let me try. I will make him sleep.”

He called his son, “Pakku come on. I want to talk to you.” The little fellow rushed to his father’s outstretched arms. He asked the kid very lovingly. “Do you want to see an engine?” I jumped up, “What do you mean by ‘Engine’?” I know one thing for sure, that my son was extremely fascinated by engines.

Both of them got ready and so did I. We went to Hardwar railway station, which was about 11 Km away from our home. It was ten thirty at night. We purchased platform tickets and entered the station. The last train had just departed. The platform was almost empty. Only one Diesel Locomotive was standing at one end of the platform. Father and son were busy exploring the engine. There was an engine driver who was a friendly person and took interest in them. I love to drink tea made at the railway station. We spent some time and returned. On the way back Pakku fell asleep on my lap.

As soon as we stepped in, Pakku’s father gave a victorious smile and said, “Look, I made him sleep.”

Now whenever Pakku did not want to sleep he asked his father to show him the engine.

One night I had a bad headache. I lied down on the bed. My son was busy with his drawing book. He was spreading all his assets like crayons, color pencils, drawing sheets, etc. I asked my husband to make him sleep. He said to Pakku, “Come on Pakku. Mom is not well. Let us help her.” Pakku asked, “How?” He said “Let us sleep peacefully so that she feels better.” He readily agreed and packed up all his stuff.

Then they lied down on the bed, covered themselves with a blanket, hugged and kissed each other, and turned off the light. Then Pakku asked, “Baba! How does the sleep come?” He thought for a while and said, “This is a natural Process.”

“How nature will tell me?”

“It does not tell you, it just comes like dreams.”

“Do you see the dreams?”

“Yes I do.”

“What do you see in the dreams?”

“Hmm... Sometimes rain or trees or flowers...”

“You mean nature.”

“Yeah! Do you also see the dreams?”

“Yes I do.”

“What do you see?”

“Nature.”

“What Nature?”

“The moon.”

“Why not stars?”

“Because Ma says stars are too far and I’m too small. Do you see the stars?”

“Yeah.”

“How does it look like? Small or very big?”

“...”

“Baba!”

“zzz ... zzz ... zzz ...”

“Baba! Baba!”, Pakku called. But there was no response. Then he crawled up to me. I saw his face. He said “Baba has fallen asleep.” He had the same victorious smile he had on his face as his father had a few days ago.

The First Report Card

My younger son had started to go to prep school. Unlike my elder son, who was very willing to go to school, the younger one was not at all interested in going to school. He had literally ragged us when we tried to get him admitted in Delhi Public School at Haridwar. Any way that is a different story, but finally he was in the prep section of DPS Haridwar. Every morning he would scream and cry as I pushed him on the school bus. I could hear him cry “Maa....” as the bus left and the cry would touch my heart. I had to act tough as I knew that schooling was very important for building up his future, but my mother heart used to weep after coming back from the bus stop. I knew that he would be alright with passage of time.

Five months passed. It was November. After a good festive season of Durgapuja and Diwali, the children were tortured with half yearly examinations. After the exams, on the Parent – Teacher meeting day, I went to the school. I spent a lot of time in the senior wing where my elder son was studying - talking to the teachers, other children and their parents and saying Hi! – Hello to my friends. When I went to the junior section for the younger one’s report card, it was too late. His class teacher Seema ma’am had already left. We came back.

On the next afternoon, I was waiting for my younger son at the bus stop. The bus stopped and the younger one stepped out of the bus. His school bag was hanging on one shoulder, the water bottle was hanging on one side from his neck, his belt hook was opened and the two ends of the belt were dangling on both side. He was holding something in his hands and was chewing it. This was a normal site. He was always in a bad mood while going and returning from school. I picked him up in my arms and snatched the card he was chewing. He put his little arms around my neck and put his head on my shoulder. On reaching home, I put him down. He threw away his school bag on one corner of the room and was struggling to pull out his shoes. Now I took a look at the object he was chewing. OMG it was his first report card. He had chewed the report card from one fold like a crescent moon and a large portion was wet with his saliva. I was shocked. I asked him “Look! You have damaged an important document. Why did you chew it ?” Pat came his irritated reply “Baaki Pilloo ko khilaa do.” [Feed the rest of it to pilloo.] (Pilloo was our newly adopted pup) I said “This is very bad. Your teacher will punish you.” He was least bothered and continued his undressing act. I opened the card. Inside, no information was lost. His report card read as follows:

Class Activites:                Avg
Physical Activities:            Avg
Habbit / Manners / Punctuality: Avg
Social Behaviour:               Good
Sense of Responsibility:        Avg
Cleanliness:                    Avg
Muscular Coordination:          Nil

I just could not believe it. “Muscular Coordination – Nil” The word Nil was written in blue ink and underlined with red ink. “What did the class teacher mean by Nil?. Medically speaking, no or nil muscular coordination should mean that one’s nervous system was damaged and or that the child was retarded – something was horribly wrong.” I mused. “Was there something wrong with my child? No no no!” I couldn’t think any further. I was perturbed. I could not make the hell out of what the class teacher Seema meant. My husband had gone to the office after his lunch much before the child was back from school. Those days we didn’t have any telephone in our home. All horrible thoughts were coming to my mind. I waited till 4 – O clock in the evening and was the first person to visit the sector dispensary where my doctor friend Mrs. Sarani Dutta used to sit. I walked into her chamber. She was a qualified doctor and mother of two and had known my kids since their birth. She should be able to understand my pitiable condition. Instead of presenting her my medical card like a patient, I showed her Piku’s report card. She was taken aback. “What’s the problem?” she asked. I showed her the last line – ‘Muscular coordination - Nil’ and very hopelessly asked “You know Piku since he was born. Do you think he has some medical problem? What is the meaning of this statement?” I almost choked. She touched my hand and said “Calm down. I know your Piku very well. He is a normal child. There is nothing wrong with him”. She went on “I think you should talk to Seema Agrawal directly. Perhaps she can explain why she wrote so or may be it was a mistake.” I was little assured by her kind words. I tried to get some reassurance from my husband when he came back from office, but he laughed it away and said “Don’t worry dear. It is not of any significance.” I thought no body was understanding my plight. I could not sleep through out the night.

Next day, after my hubby had gone to the office and the children to school, I went to the school and sought an appointment with Mrs. Seema Agrawal. I was waiting in the visitors lobby. After a while Seema came and asked “What happened Mrs. Banerjee?” I said “I want some explaination about my son’s report card, but please tell me first whether he is a normal child or not?” She said “Ofcourse, he a normal boy, and an excellent story teller as well.” Now I showed her the report card. She bounced back “Mrs. Banerjee! What did he do with the report card? He has eaten it?” I covered the missing area of the report card with my hand and pointed out the line ‘Muscular coordination – Nil’ I asked her “How can you explain this?” She explained “Look, we give the children some kind of project or some small things to do in the class. Few children do it very well and so as per school rules we grade them VG- Very Good, G-Good or Nil. Yes, I remember, your son did not do the project work given in the class at all, so I have graded him – nil. Secondly you have to pay a fine as you need a new report card.” I asked her “What kind of project work did you give the children?” She said “I had given them a chart paper and a paper cutting of a candle which they had to paste neatly on the chart paper. All the children submitted their work but Abhirup (Piku) did not submit his work.” I felt relaxed. I told Seema “Please change the word Muscular coordination to some thing else as medically it means different.” She said “Please give this suggestion to the school authorities”. “Sure I will” said I and returned home.

That evening, Piku was playing with Pilloo (Our newly adopted pup). The elder son was also playing with his friends in our compound. I called Piku “Piku! I want to talk to you.” He rushed to me and jumped on my lap. I asked him softly “Some kind of project work was given by your ma’am in the class – some candle or something – do you remember that?” He readily said “Yes, you know, ma’am gave us a big chart paper and you know my chart paper was of pink colour and Varun Gupta’s paper was yellow.” “Yes, but what did you do with that paper?” I asked. He said “Nothing.” I asked “Nothing? But what happened to the candle?”. He said “I pasted it on the desk and threw the chart paper in the dustbin. You know ma’am tells us to keep the class room clean.” I was amazed and asked “Why did you paste the candle on the desk? You should have pasted the candle on the chart paper.” He said “Oh mom! Our ma’am teaches us every day in that A B C rhyme .... XYZ ....Candles on my desk. So I pasted it on the desk.” Now I was truly RELAXED AND HAPPY.