Miles to go Before I Sleep

In the morning meeting Dr. Ghosh announced that few people from school are going for PYP International IB workshop to Mumbai. The names who were going were not announced. After the morning meeting, I went back to our classes. In the afternoon time, Didi came in my class telling that Dr. Ghosh had called me so I went to meet Dr. Ghosh.

“Yes Khushboo ma’am. How is your class doing?”, Dr. Ghosh asked me in his every enthusiastic style.

“Sir, my class doing very good.” I replied him with a smile.

“No doubt ma’am. We want all teachers to do well in their classes. I had observed you working very hard for the school so I want to send you for PYP International Workshop in Mumbai.” He gave a shock of surprise.

I was on cloud nine. It was only six months passed in the school and I was chosen for the workshop. I was very happy. I wanted to share this news with my mum. I had no words to thank Dr. Ghosh for giving me that opportunity to learn new things. I was speechless. That was the first workshop in my teaching career I was going to attend. I thanks sir and went upstairs in the library to search some poems for my kids.

In the literature corner of the library, I saw an anthology of poems. I was very curious to see that. I took the book and open its first page. There was a poem by Robert Frost ‘
Stopping By Woods in the Snowy Evening’. I studied that poem when I was in tenth standard. The poem was all about choosing your own way. I was lost in the book.

People say that life gives you turn but this time I had given my life a new, sudden turn. I decided to shift from Nagpur to Pune. I knew it was the most difficult thing for an Indian middle class girl to leave her place and go in a strange metro city like Pune, but I did not change my decision. My younger sister Richa had been working in one of the call centers in Pune for a year. I decided to go and stay with her. I was sure that I will get some job in Pune, if not of a teacher then at least a BPO job I would get.

Next day, I came to my Bhavan’s school to collect my relieving letter and experience certificate. Mind was not ready to leave the school in which I started my teaching career, made so many good friends, learnt many new things, explored my talent and especially my kids. Their smiling faces still wondering in front of my eyes and I wiped my wet eyes full of tears. But I was selfish enough to leave the past school and look for the bright future.

Principal ma’am called me in her cabin. She was looking nervous as one of her best teachers was leaving the school. She gave me experience certificate and asked me, “Why do you want to leave a school like Bhavan’s? People are dying to get a job in an organization like Bhavans?” I gave a smile hiding my tears and replied, “Ma’am I have got a good job in Pune and getting very good salary.” She asked cutting my sentence ,”But you have to work 9 hours there while here you are working only for 3 hours.” My mind was very clear that I had to leave this place and to go to Pune so my answers were true and I was confident enough to say, “I am ready to work 9 hours here also if I will get Rs. 11,000 as salary.” I thought that she has got authentic reason what she was finding out. She signed my letters and handed it over to me and said, “ Khushboo, you are a very talented girl. I know wherever you will go you will make that place happy.”

From the last Volvo bus of that night I came to Pune. New city, new life, I hoped that it would be a great fun as I will get more salary and thus I will support my family financially in a better way. But things are not as good as they seem to be. Metros like Pune does not give you job easily. It demands your patience and more of your confidence. Though I was from a small town of Bhagalpur, educated in a city like Nagpur, I think, I am born confident to anything. That confidence makes me win in critical situations. Same thing happened in Pune while searching the job.

I stayed at my sister’s hostel in Kasba Peth. I arranged my things in the hostel room. My sister warned me about the cruel landlady of the hostel. She told me how bad and mean she is.

In Wednesday’s Times Ascent, I saw an advertisement “Wanted Teacher for Gurukul English School”, there were some more Wanted advertisements of BPOs and call centers. I wrote down addresses of these companies and schools in my mobile’s sms. I arranged all my papers and document files to get ready for the interview. Roshit, my younger sister’s boyfriend dropped me at the venue on his bike. My first interview in Gurukul was successful but I was not happy with the salary they offered, that is, Rs. Ten thousand. It is not possible to live in a costly city like Pune in Ten thousand. So I refused to join the school. I was also selected in a call center in Magarpatta city called ‘EXL’ but my mind was not ready for doing a customer care job. I had heard somewhere that, do the work what you are eligible for. If I am a Gold Medalist in Science post graduation with two years teaching experience, why should I go and join a BPO? My mind was not ready to leave my teaching profession and my eyes started looking for more “Wanted Teachers” advertisement.

From one corner of the newspaper to the other corner my eyes and my fingers were moving searching for a good school’s advertisement. Suddenly at a point my fingers stopped moving and eyes stared to read the advertisement of Victorious Kidss Educares, an IB school. I decided to go there but was not sure what kind of school it would be. As the name suggest I thought it would be a child care school. Roshit dropped me at the school. I went inside the school. My first impression of the school was not so good. It was a very small school inside a bungalow. I thought to myself is it a home or a school? But then I thought, I had to do the job in any school, if I would get a good salary package then there is no problem working over here.

The school was almost like a bungalow. In Gadchandur we used to live in a bungalow just like this big one. There was a hut like room within the school premises, I thought some would be living there, but later I came to know that it is a classroom. I went inside the school corridor. It was very live and I was getting some signals, “Yes, this is the place I wanted to join.”. Surrounded by the thoughts of many great philosophers like Swami Vivekananda, the walls were covered with them. It was written on the wall in front of me …

‘Winning is not everything, wanting to win is.’

‘School’s vision is to create superior, intellectual human being to create a better world’

Yes, I was impressed.

A maid came to tell me that I was called in by the principal. Kanchan Nasare was the co-coordinator, a lady with superb attitude. I had a successful interview with her. Then the next round of interview. The next interview was with the school’s director Dr. Ghosh. I went inside his cabin. Sitting in his royal chair, just like a king, the director was discussing something with some people, I thought they were teachers. The director’s office was less a cabin and more an office. There were aquariums with many beautiful fishes, orange and white colourful fishes. Dr. Ghosh was in royal suit. He asked me to occupy the seat. The interview began.

“See ma’am, we are an IB school” the director said in base voice. Tilting his back and his head at his king like chair, he continued in his UK English accent, “We don’t need teachers from the traditional school like where are you from. Though you have your M.Sc. degree, it is of no use over here because we teach kids in a different way. As you a gold medalist in Psychology and seem to be talented, I suggest you one thing, come to our school tomorrow, spend a day with us, then decide.” The pure English accents were enough to make you feel that you are in a good school because I had experienced that many schools’ directors can’t even speak in such UK accent. I thought to myself ,”The school seems to be good, it has IB status also, a great career I can carve here for myself, why not give a chance”. And I decided to come to school the next day.

The next day, early in the morning I got up and got ready for the school as I did not know the bus route. Roshit was also not in town so I had to manage it by myself. In a rush I left my hostel and asked an auto rickshawa wala, “Bhaiya, yahaa pe bus stop kahaa hai?”. He pointed his finger and said, “Wahi samane.” I went to the bus stop and was waiting for the bus. Last night, Richa helped me in getting the information about which bus goes to Empress garden or Bhairoba nala. I had written in on a chit of paper. I took the chit of paper out of my jeans pocket. It was a bus number, 181, which was ready to leave the stop. I ran after it and somehow tried to catch it. The bus dropped me at Bhairoba nala. From Bhairoba nala to school, I walked a distance of almost 2 kilometers, but did not get tired. I was habitual to walking. Nagpur’s school was 5 km away from our house and I used to go by walking. So walking such a long distance was not a tough task for me.

I reached school. In the school’s hall all the teacher assembled early morning. They assembled for the morning meeting, I thought. But suddenly they started singing, ‘Gurur Brmha, Gurur Vishnu…’. I thought it may be a prayer before start of the day. But after that one more rhyme, after it one more. I was also enjoying singing rhymes as some of them I knew. The rhyme session continued for ten minutes. First time in my life I had seen that the school teachers start their day by singing prayers and rhymes. I felt very good. The morning meeting started with my introduction. Dr. Ghosh introduced me to the school teachers and asked me to tell something about myself. I stood up and introduced myself and did not forget to mention dancing as my passion.

I was sent to the junior KG class since I had experience of handling small age group. I was very happy to be among the small children. I like small kids. These kids were not different. They all were so cute and adorable that I thought I would love to teach them. I was told by the Senior teacher of the class to take a demo lesson. I took a lesson on animals very confidently. Somehow the day went nice. It was six in the evening and the school got over. I was called by Dr. Ghosh in his office. I went with a nervous face but came out with a smile on my face. I got my joining letter with a salary of rupees ten thousand five hindred. I was very happy. I was high, running wild among all the stars above. Yes, I got a job in a metro city like Pune.

As I came out of the school, I called my mum from my cell phone. From other end of the phone mum said, “Haa, mujhe pata hai, tujhe job mil gayi hai.” Surprisingly I asked her, “Aapko kaise pata chala?”. She replied with a kind of happiness in her voice, “Mujhe pata hai, ke jaha bhi tum interview ke liye jaogi, tum select hokar hi rahogi. Maine bhagwanse prarthana ki thi.” Eyes filled with tears even in this happy moment.

I came hostel to celebrate the moment with my younger sister. We went to a sweetshop, bought some Samosas and celebrated the joy. Now I was no more stranger to this city, I was a part of it. That night I could not sleep well. I should have taken a nice nap, I did not. I was thinking about human life. How life makes you change your place, pass your obstacles, achieve your goal and on top of it, learn be happy. But I had not achieved my goal yet. It was just the first lap I passed towards my goal. That night I remembered the poem “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frosts. I remembered the last line of the poem…

“Miles to go before I sleep, Miles to go before I sleep.”

And I switched off the light of my room and covered my face with the blanket to sleep.

Suddenly I was called by someone. Yes, that was Uttrani ma’am, the library assistant. I was back from my dreams. The reality hit me back.

“Khushboo ma’am, do you want that book to read?” She asked me.

“No. I have read this book long back.”, I replied her and went into my class.

The whole day I was thinking how one’s life is connected to a piece of literature. While reading a book, a drama, novel or a poem, even while listening to song also, we connect ourselves with the character and writer’s emotions. I found myself connected by Robert Frost’s poem.

Topping the Charts

My younger sister Nain’s results for First year gradation were declared that day. We went to her college to see her results. Students gathered at the notice board. They were pushing each other to see their result. I asked Amit to go and see Nain’s result. He is too lazy as he answered me that he would go after the crowd gets scattered. Now, there were only few students left so we went to see her results on the notice board kept outside the college office. I was searching her name on the board. But did not find. I was so engrossed in searching her name in the list that later I realized that I was searching Khushboo Sharma’s name. I went into the past.

I passed my graduation with flying colours but I was not happy my with marks. That time I was at home and was not in the hostel. Mum and my siblings were happy for me for being the first girl in the whole family to learn till graduation. But mum’s dream was still not fulfilled. She wanted to see her kids going beyond their ability. She wanted to make us independent enough to earn for ourselves. She was feminist, I would either say. She was very happy to listen that I had passed my B.Sc. final year exam with really good marks. The atmosphere in the family was bright and merry.

Mum called my father and gave him the good news. Father was in Hyderabad for job. He was very happy to hear the news. He told mum that he would send some gifts and some cash for my further study. My mum also called my uncle for sharing the good news. But she got bad comments from my uncle as her share. When she called my uncle and told that I has passed my final year exam with good marks, uncle was not happy at all. In return he sarcastically told my mum that now days anyone could pass the exam. He also told that passing exam is not so hard and there are thousands of graduate sitting without any job. Uncle was not happy on my success. He was envy that his daughter did not even pass her 10^th standard. His rude talk had hurt my mother. She cut the phone and cried a lot. We sisters tried to make her smile with our foolish, childish actions. Somehow she managed to smile but I could see that she was still sad with the way the uncle complimented my success. I was also very angry on him. So I decided to show everyone what a girl can do when the world doubts her talent.

That time we were in financial problems. Sometimes destiny tests your patience. I was hoping that the suffering time just pass away soon. But it did not. At the same time papa did not send money to us due to his late salary. And on top of that the education of all four of us. Admissions were supposed to start from the next month. Admission fees, stationary were going to cost a lot. So I decided to help my family financially by taking some home tuitions. I opened a private coaching class at my home. For first week, there were only 4 students in the class but from the next week number of students started increasing. My mum suggested my class to the neighbours. My friends as well suggested my name to their relatives and neighbours. Somehow, with God’s grace, I managed to get 15 children. I felt proud of myself that I am literally helping my family financially. I started getting more than 2000 rupees each month. It was enough for our admissions.

I got admission in M.Sc. I was very confused with which subjects I should go for specialization. As I was very interested in teaching and understanding human nature, I decided to go with Human Development (Child Psychology). My experience with kids during private home tuitions also helped me in making the decision. I discussed with mom regarding the specialization. She was happy with my decision. She used to think the same way like me that if the teacher understands the child then any child in this worlds can turn into Einstein. Yes, I was on the way to my teaching career.

People say that psychology is very difficult but I never found it difficult. It was very interesting for me. I would say that it is the most interesting subject on the face of the Earth. I want to give the credit to my teachers. They were so good in their subject that I did not feel of bunking the class even for a day. I used to attend all the classes in my M.Sc. year. My friends used to say that the psychology subject had changed my ‘psychology’.

College was going on. I used to study everyday for an hour but it did not mean that I was very bore in the college days. I actively participated in all the college activities. As I was brought up in the co-ed school where boys and girls used to study together, I used to talk to boys in the college. I did not know that, here in Maharashtra, boys have the assumption that if a girl talks to them, it means the girl likes them. Same thing happened with me. I used to talk to boys. It affected me in another way. The girls from my class started thinking that I had an affair with them. Even one of the boys tried to publicized me by telling that I was engaged to him. I felt sad for their cheap mentality. From that time, I stopped talking to boys. I was good in studies as well as good in extracurricular activities like dancing, singing and drama so I had always been an attraction for boys. But I was attracted towards my studies. I did not entertain boys in my college life.

College competitions were on the charts. Everybody was preparing themselves in one or other way. There were some sports girls who started working hard for the sports competitions. I also started practicing for my dance competitions. As we know that if we have the spirit to win and hard work to assist, luck always helps us. The luck helped me this time also. I won the dance competition. But it was not the end of the show. I participated in the college competition named “Beautiful Face of The Year” and luck proved me right this time also. I won the beauty contest in the college also. I won prizes in almost all the competitions I took part in. At the end of the college competitions, the final results were displayed on the notice board.

Competition	Winner
Dance competition	Khushboo Sharma
Elocution Competition	Nidhi Jain
100 mtr Run	Purnima Ranjan
Drawing competition	Khushboo Sharma
Face of the year	Khushboo Sharma
Chess competition	Sofia Hussain
Solo- Singing Competition	Khushboo Sharma
Traditional wear competition	Radha Agrawal
Ms. L.A.D. Of the year	Khushboo Sharma

I did not know that notice was put on the board. My friend Garima told me that I had won almost all the competitions in the college. When I went to see the final results notice, there was crowd at the notice board. Somehow I managed to create the way by pushing people aside. I saw the notice on the board. I was too happy seeing my name that I tears flow down my cheeks. I topped the charts in the competitions in the college and on top of it I was Ms. L.A.D. Now I was very eager to give the news to mum.

On weekend, I went home shouting and told mom about the prizes I had won. Everybody was happy in the family. It was a party time for us. So mum made chaat for us in the dinner. We enjoyed the food. That day I realized that hardwork never fails. Now my next target was to top the charts in the Nagpur University and I was moving towards it.

Though I was very popular in studies as well as in curricular activities, I was always on ground. I did not show off my talents and skills. But on the other hand was, one of my friend, Nidhi who always used to compete with me. She was a true genius. I used to respect her as I respect myself. Last three years she had been topping the college merit charts and she was sure this time also. I knew that she will top the merit. I always used to support her morally. I used to think that she is very helpful but she proved me wrong one day.

Semester exams were going on. Though these exams are not counted for annual marks still I was seriously studying. When the results were declared, I came to know that Nidhi had got 2 marks more than me. I was happy for her. I went to her to congratulate and to ask her that I wanted to see her paper in which I have got less marks. I wanted to discuss some questions with her which I knew she could answer me properly. There were all the friends sitting in the college café. I asked her my doubt but instead of answering me properly and clearing my doubts, she made my fun. “Why do you want to know these answers Khushboo? Do you want to top the college?” She said in a sarcastic tone. All the girls started laughing at me saying that ‘Khushboo can never top the college’. I was very sad for knowing her true face and also for the fact that she made my fun in front of all the girls.

That night I could not sleep properly. The whole night I was thinking about how can my friend talk to me like that. Now I decided not to trust anyone even a friend. I promised myself that I will top the college. It was not only a promise but was also about my dignity and pride. I did not want to take revenge but just wanted to prove myself. I was waiting for the right blow.

I used to study from the first day of college but this incident made me study three hours a day. I used to go spend time studying various books in the library and taking notes. I missed my afternoon lunch also many a times. Read and write, make notes, read the notes again and again make them shorter to remember, was my work in last one month of the examinations. I was eagerly waiting for M.Sc. II year exam.

Exams got over. It was good. I wrote all the answers properly and was sure about their correctness. After two months, results were declared. I was at the home. I was called by the Principal ma’am in the college. I thought may be for some formalities like T.C. she had called me. I went to the college. As well as I entered the college, I saw that the college office was decorated with flowers and rangoli. I entered into Principal’s office. I was surprised and wondering what was going on.

I was called by the Principal ma’am in her cabin. I went inside with little nervousness. Ma’am told me to sit. I sat. My throat was dry due to nervousness.

“Congratulations Khushboo!”, Principal ma’am said shaking my hands with hers.

I was surprised for the congratulations. Why this lady was congratulating me. I did not understand. I thought that I was selected by the college for one of the state level dance competitions.

“Why ma’am?”, I asked her.

“You have topped the Nagpur University. You came first in the university in M.Sc. You have made us proud. After a long time department of Human Development of our college came in the merit list.”

For a while I thought that it was a dream. Because I never thought that I would top the university. But it was not a dream, I had really topped the university merit charts in M.Sc. I was too happy to speak. I was speechless. I did not have words to express my happiness. In that outburst of happiness I even forgot to thank principal ma’am. Tears once again flowed on my cheeks.

I went home to share the happy news. Mum saw me coming with watery eyes. She was confused what happened with me. She might be thinking that I had a fight with one the friends. I went running and hugged her. I was still crying.

Mum asked me, ”Arre, kya hua rone ke liye? Kisi se zagda hua hai kya?” She asked.

I was still crying keeping my head on her shoulder. “Arre bata to sahi kya hua.” She asked one more time.

Somehow I controlled my happiness and told her that I had topped the university. Now this time she started crying but I did not ask her why she was crying. Whenever mum cried we used to do some crazy things to make her laugh, but today we did not do crazy things to stop her cry. She was happier than me. That day she might have felt that she is the best mother in the world.

That was my day. I called my father to tell the good news. I also called my relatives to tell what the magic my mother had done with us. It was all my mum’s grace that made me achieve this goal. Her hardwork had given the fruit to us.

I was getting ready to go to the sweet shop to purchase some sweets. It was a great day of my life and I wanted to thank God so I decided to go to the temple with sweets as prashad. As I was about to leave the house, I saw Nidhi standing at the door. She had a polythin bag with her. She was watching me eagerly. I waited and asked her to come in. We sat. She congratulated me for the success at the same time tears flowed down her cheeks. I could not understand the expressions on her face whether she was happy or sad. I was confused.

“Khushboo, I am really very sorry for that incident. But you proved that you are the topper of not only the college but also of university.” She hugged me and burst into tears. I was happy that she realized her mistake but I was more happy that I had got my lost friend back.

Nain hugged me tightly. “Mickey Di, I passed my first year. I am so happy.” She said in a merry voice which brought me back from my college days.

“Yes, even I am very happy. Tonight we will have a party for you and your friend and it is my treat.”

Listening this she had a ear to ear smile on her face as she did not have to spend any money from her pocket.

College Memories

That day Amit came home early. He had made a plan for the movie. While coming from class he bought two tickets of Inox multiplex. I told him that we would watch movies on DVD but he did not listen to me and thus we went. That was ‘3 Idiots’. While watching the movie, at first, I thought it would be like any other Bollywood movie but it turned to be a laugh riot. In one of the scenes the lead actor of the movie, Aamir Khan, is asked by his seniors to remove his pants and salute them. The seniors are shown ragging the newcomers. It was a funny scene, I was laughing a lot. Suddenly the theater light went off.

We shifted from Bhagalpur to Gadachandur, a town in Chandrapur. Papa got a job in Manikgarh Cement Factory with the reference of my uncle. The company gave us a bunglow to live. It was a huge bungalow with a beautiful garden in front of it. Things were going nice. Now, I was in 11^th standard and education was a little different here.

That was one of the best phases of my life when we were in Gadchandur, Manikgarh Cement factory. We were living life like a king. Things were enough to make you feel royal. Everything was used to be ready for us. Breakfast, ironed clothes, a car from the school and everything. The school was just a kilometer away though we used to go by car.

I did my 11^th and 12^th standard from Manikgarh, Gadchandur, but for higher studies of graduation the college was not there. We had to go to Nagpur for further studies. I had to leave the house for my further studies. I got admission in Nagpur’s LAD girls college for B.Sc. but the problem was where to stay in Nagpur as no relative was there. So I decided to stay in girls hostel.

My sister, my mother and I took all my suitcases and went to Nagpur to search Girls hostel. We tried our luck in many hostels but all were full and occupied. So we asked a teacher of L.A.D. college for the accommodation. She saw my mark sheet with good marks and gave a room in hostel. If you are talented then the world is there to help, I realized this saying first time.

Hostel world was new for me but my passion to learn was enough to face this new world. Mom wanted us to learn a lot and be independent so that we should not face problems like my mum and dad. So I was determined that I had to learn a lot and get a good job. I was moving in that same direction for success. So hostel never seemed to be a strange place for me. But there was a strange thing which made me worried about my education; that was RAGGING.

Yes, though it was a ladies hostel, the senior students used to rag a lot. I had heard form one of my friends that these senior girls rag out of limit. So I was very scared. I had seen ragging till now in Hindi movies. Now it was time to experience that. The word ragging even gives Goosebumps on me. Ragging happened with me too.

It was 9 in the night. Everybody was in their room. I was studying in my room. I lied down on my bed and took a psychology book out of my bag to read. I was not feeling sleepy. It was my experience that if I take a science book to read, I would sleep. So I was reading my Psychology book. Suddenly someone knocked the door. Initially I got confused, ‘who would be there at 9 pm?’I asked myself. The door banged again and again. Garima, my roommate said, “It must be senior girls. Go open the door.” I got up and opened the door. Yes, those were senior girls. They were tall, wearing their track pants and t-shirts, looking less like a girl and more like a tomboy. One of the girls asked me, ‘B.Sc. first year kya?” I said “Yes” in a scared voice.

“Kal college ko aate waqt, mismatch dressing karke aaneka.” One the ‘tom boy’ girl said.

“I did not understand what you said. What is mismatch dress?” I asked them my doubt.

Everybody started laughing at me.

“Mis-match dress me kapde alag alag rang ke pehen ne ke, nahito…” and they all left the room. I locked the door from inside. I wiped the sweat on the forehead and started working upon my clothes for the next day.

Next day, I was ready to be ragged. Now, it was not like we were afraid of them but now we wanted to enjoy how exactly it is done so that even we could rag the next year’s students. I was ready with my dress and also with my mind. As I entered the college what I saw that every first year student was in completely absurd dress. The way they used their mis-match talent was terrible. A girl was in red shirts and yellow pants. One girl was in white shirts with a tie and red chudidar. I also wore a mis-match combination but it was still looking sober. I wore a red kurti and a white salwar with a yellow duppatta. I was enjoying myself. For me it was the most weird dress I had worn till that day.

But it was not the end of the ragging. The real ragging starts in the hostel. Seniors girls assembled in a room with a plan in their mind. All the new comers were really scared with the thought of what was going to happen with them. We juniors were asked to assemble in a room. We followed their order. All the juniors gathered in three different rooms. In my room, there were fifteen girls. They started gossiping with each other about the seniors.

“What will they do with us?”, asked one of the girls.

“I don’t know. They are going to do something but they can’t do something very bad”, other girl sitting on the bed answered her question immediately.

“Why did I come to such a bullshit college, I don’t know, where such episodes like ragging happen.” , one more girl dared to rebel against the system of ragging.

I was standing in the corner of the room, tilting my head on the wall. One of the girls asked me, “Don’t you fear these seniors?”

I smiled and said, “Troubles are there in life. They always come as life goes but it does not mean that we should run away from the troubles. I have learnt a thing throughout my life, if you face the thing you fear most then you will not fear that thing anytime in your life. So let’s face this trouble so that next time we should not fear them. Enjoy yourself.” But I know that my heart was also bouncing in my chest and it was about to come out of my mouth. It is always easy to sympathize yourself when you are in trouble. I was doing the same. That girl became relaxed after my filmy words. I had heard these dialogues in a movie. That time I realized that watching movies can never be waste of time. It made me being positive to myself through that dialogue.

The door was knocked. Garima, my friend, opened the door. A senior girl came into the room and said, “Who is Garima?” Garima was scared.

“I am.”, she said hiding behind the opened doors.

“You have to come in room no. 18 where all the seniors are waiting for you.”, the cruel girl ordered as the supreme court judge had given his final verdict of death to an innocent man.

The innocent Garima went wiping her tears. She came back and there was a big smile on her face. What was that about? We were surprised. I asked her, “What happened?”. She told me, “Now I don’t fear them because I have faced them. They asked me to sing a song for them and I sang…”.

“but why did you come with a smile on your face? Are they really good people pretending to be bad?” I asked her clearing my doubts about them.

“No, they are not good at all. When they asked me to sing, I sang in such a bad voice that one of them asked me to go and said sorry to me for being called.” Garima answered and the whole room burst into laugh. Yes, she was very funny. That incident made us a little relax till the door knocked the second time. I remembered the scene from Mahabharata where Bakasur was given food by each villager every week. The villager used to go to Bakasur with the feast and he, himself used to be feast for Bakasur. The knocking door reminded of that Bakasur. Now who would be the next villager for that Bakasur?

“Khushboo Sharma…” the killing voice shouted.

I raised my hand. “Tumhe bulaya hai, chalo.” The devil girl asked me and took me to room no. 18.

I entered the room. There were almost 12 to 15 senior girls waiting for me just like a group of lioness waiting for a buffalo to come and eat. I was scared. They were standing in a circle. I was told to be in the centre. That time I also realized one thing, that watching movies does not help you when you are standing in front of trouble. We can advice other people through a movie dialogue but we can’t help ourselves in the same way when standing in front of a dangerous situation. I was praying God that they should also ask me to sing as I was very good in singing.

“So, Khushboo Sharma,” one of the girls said stretching my surname Sharma like a taan in classical music. “What do you want to do?”, she asked me. I felt that my spine was numb with cold and my legs were leaving the ground. But I somehow managed to dare and said, “Shall I sing a song for you?”

No. Not at all, we have enjoyed song from the previous girl and are thinking not to listen to any song from now onwards.”, the girl said in an irritating voice. I thanked Garima for her buffalo voice.

“You better dance for us”, other senior devil commanded.

Yes, that was what I wanted. I was very good in dance and they asked me to dance. Now it was my turn to enjoy and not ragged, as dancing for me is my passion and they asked me to explore that passion. Yes, I wanted to dance eagerly.

There was a cassette player in that room. They played the cassette and I was ready to dance. The song started. “Le gayi le gayi, dil le gayi le gayi” and I was so very happy that past six months I have been choreographing this song only. I was dancing on the floor thinking that nobody was standing in front of me. The only person who was there was I, me and myself. I was dancing and also enjoying my dance. Slowly and slowly some of the seniors started tapping their feet, they also came and joined me in dance. The whole room turned into a disco. We danced and danced. They all enjoyed my dance.

“Khushboo Sharma,” the girl sitting on the table said, “We liked your dance. You are a great dancer. You can go now and enjoy yourself.”

I went into my room and I was very happy. People waiting for their call could see the happiness flowing on my face. I was delighted that I had faced one more trouble in the life and was ready to face many more like that. That day I realized one thing, that watching movies is not waste of time. They teach you to dance also. Life is also like a movie where you see many phases like love, emotions, actions, dance and drama. I have been experiencing those phases till now.

From the day of our ragging, the senior always respected me as one of the great dancers in the college. Whenever they used to meet me, in the canteen, in the parking, they used to request me to dance and I used to dance there without looking where I was dancing.

Days passed. Now all the hostel girls were good friends of each other. We used to do a lot of masti together in the hostel like dancing, singing, playing as well as studying. I was the intelligent as well as the most lovable ones amongst the group. Hostel days were golden days of my life.

During the night time, after the dinner we used to play ‘truth and dare’. The hostel in-charge was a lady and she was very bad. She used to close the door before nine in the night as it was a rule. She did not accept any reasons or excuses. She was our favourite target of while playing truth and dare.

There was a fountain in the middle of the ground in front of the hostel. The dare used to be climb on the fountain and to shout loudly “The warden is stupid and mad. She is a Hitler”. It was dangerous to perform that dare but we girls used to enjoy daring that. As the dared ones shouted, the lady used to come with a long stick in her hand but nobody used to get caught. The lady used to roam around the hostel and search various rooms to find out the pranksters but we always used to pretend that we were sleeping.

The hostel used to get closed at 9 in the night. We were so crazy that we used to go to watch late night movies. The show was from 9 to 12 in the night. When we used to come we used to bribe our door keeper, watchman, of the hostel. He was a good man but he did not know that we were bad girls. We used to talk sweet to him and he would think that we girls liked him. He would allow us to go out of the hostel. For us he was a fool who could be fooled anytime.

College and hostel life is all about friendship, parties, dances, songs and of course mischievous. I am glad that my friends and I had completely enjoyed that beautiful phase of our life. But we did not forget our studies . We used to study together in the hostel. I was the most visited person in the hotel as I used to help everyone in studies. I used to study late nights till 2 am and used to get up at 5.30 am in the morning. That helped me in achieving my goals.

The electricity came back in the theater after five minutes as generator also had some problem. I was back from my past. Hostel, college, ragging and everything, I left behind to watch the movie. Aamir Khan was being ragged by his seniors.

Movie got over. We were on the way to our home. While passing from Tilak Ayurvedi Mahavidyalay, there were some girls sitting in the gallery of their rooms at 12.30 am. I asked Amit about it. He replied that the building is a girls’ hostel. They were studying late night. All the hostel rooms lights were on. I wished them good luck in my mind and went on.

Hostel life teaches you many things. It makes you independent. It helps to try your best and most of all it always reminds you that you are here, far away from your home to be something. My hostel has always been an inspiration for me. Whenever I pass by any hotel in Pune, I miss my hotel days even today.

Memories Left Behind

‘Field to table’ unit was going on in my class. Students were enthusiastically participating in every activity. That day we planned to do a role play where children had to do different roles of farmer, shopkeeper, etc. Ishwar was the shopkeeper and was selling his goods to the customers. Deepshikha ma’am came smiling to me and said, “So much enjoy these kids are doing. When I was small I also used to play and enjoy a lot. We all girls used to play Barbie and shopkeeper game where I used to be shopkeeper. Have you ever played such games in your childhood?” She asked while arranging the book shelves.

“Yes, we played a lot like these kids. Actually, I not played the shopkeeper game but I have experienced how to run a shop in my childhood.” I replied to her.

“How?” Deepshikha ma’am, continued to ask.

“Our family had many shops. My father had a general stores and I used to sit over there handling the customers as well as eating sweets from the shop.” I told her. I was watching Eshwar carefully, how he was handling all the customers in his shop. The way he arranged himself to get ready to sell was superb. “Khushboo ma’am, why don’t you come to my shop to buy something?” Eshwar called me and I went.

“Khushboo, ek Parle G biscuit ka packet to dena,” Mishra uncle called me and I was at the counter of our shop. I was hardly eleven or twelve years old. I was handling the shop single handedly but when it comes to weighing goods, I was not perfect at that. I used to give sometimes more and sometimes less goods on the weighing machine, we called it as taraju. It was fun to stay on the shop. I thought I was the luckiest of our siblings who had got a chance to be a shopkeeper.

Yes, we had a shop where all food items and sweets we used to sell. My papa used to take care of it. It was a big shop for me as I was very small. When I used to come from the school I used to go and sit there for passing my time and for having some fun. I used to take my school bag also there so that when there was no customer I should do my school studies. “Now, Khushboo was known to everybody in the town.” I said to myself. My school friends also used to come at our shop to buy things and sweets. They were really amazed to see me handling the whole shop. Every time, when someone used to buy some sweets, I used to take one or two sweets for me from the box. Thus I didn’t need any lunch. The sweets were eaten more by me and less bought by the customers.

During the dinner time, papa and mum were discussing something about the shop. They were looking tense. I had never seen them in such tension. “Dekhoji, aapki tabiyat thik nahi hai. Bahut mahino se aapke pith ke dard se aapko bahut taklif hoti hai. Aap kisi achche doctor ko kyu nahi dikhate?” Mum was looking worried. She served a spoonful of desi ghee on papa’s rice. Papa took a bite and fed himself and said, “Kolkata ki meri behan ne wahaa ke ek doctor ke baare me bola tha. Sochta hu wahi jaake apna ilaaj kara lu.”

“To phir apni dukaan kaun sambhalega?” Mum asked him. She knew that the shop was the mean for our bread and butter but she also knew that what will happen if papa would leave the shop. She looked very tensed.

“Bhaiya kuch mahino ke liye dukkan sambhalege.” Papa continued. “After all, woh mera bhai hai aur mera uspar khud se bhi jyaada vishwas hai.” Papa finished his food and got up from his seat.

Mum asked him in lower tone, “Par, agar…”

Papa cut her speech and in an angry voice he said, “Arre, wo mera bhai hai dushman nahi. Wo meri dukaan kha nahi jaayega.” Papa thought that my mum does not trust my uncles. So he was very angry at mum. I did not know who was right and who was wrong, all I was knowing that from the next day, I would not be allowed to sit in the shop.

The next morning papa went to Kolkata. He handed over the shop to my uncle. I felt that the shop is no more mine. My chair, in the shop, was occupied by one of my cousins and now he was enjoying the sweets.

It took a long time for papa to return from Kolkata. Till the time my uncle used to give us rent of that shop. Papa returned after three months. He was looking no different. Still he had back pain and the problem was not solved. In the next week only he planned to go to Baroda for the surgery. I had a mausi in Baroda. She called him for the treatment because he was the youngest and the loveliest ones. Papa went to Baroda and returned after a long time. Papa had spent more time outside the family than with the family. Our daily routine was going on without my papa also.

Papa returned from Baroda and asked the uncle for the shop but uncle did not give him the shop. Uncle said that he had been taking care of shop since a year and the shop is no longer of my papa. Uncle even told that he was ready to pay the rent for the shop but the shop now belonged to him and not to my father. Papa was sad but my mum was crying a lot. She also had a fight with uncle on the shop but all in vain. We knew that papa respects his elder brothers and he would not ask them for the shop. The joint family was broken down due to that incident. But one thing happened good that mum came to know the true faces of everyone. “Nobody is there for you except yourself.” My mum said to us.

We planned to leave Bhagalpur as it was not possible to live in the family where hearts were broken by selfishness and cunning nature. Mum packed our things. I came from the school in the afternoon. I asked mum, “Mum, where are we going?”. There were tears in her eyes. She said wiping her tears off her face, “We are going away from this place. Pack your things properly. We are leaving tomorrow.” “But where are we going?” I asked one more question. “Your papa has got a very good job in Maharashtra. He got a job in a cement factory. So we are going there.”

We were leaving the house the next day. All bags were packed and we were ready to depart in the private bus. The bus was standing just in fornt of our house. The bags were kept in the bus. I held the hand of my younger siblings. We got into the bus. I got a window seat. From the window I could see our shop. It was not ‘our’ this time. I was feeling my heart was heavy and mind was not ready to leave the shop. That shop had become my friend, a place to study, a place to enjoy. River started flowing through my eyes as I watched that shop. Bus started but my eyes did not move from the shop till it disappeared.

“Khushboo ma’am, what happened?” Deepshikha ma’am asked me. She saw tears in my eyes and was worried what really had happened to me. I wiped my tears and said, “ Nothing ma’am. Something is there in my eyes. I will go and wash my face.” How could I tell her that I am still missing our shop. I am still missing those days, I am still missing everything I kept behind in Bahgalpur. I was still missing myself, my childhood and everything.

Dancing Memories

My every morning starts with Amit’s singing practice. I don’t know when he gets up. I wake up with his aalaap. Today morning was not any different. He was practicing in the kitchen and I was on the bed. I woke up from the bed, still sitting and stretching my both arms with a long yawn just like I was saying the laziness resides in me “Its time to go now.” The sweet melody of taanpura and Amit’s singing tuned the whole atmosphere. I moved a little on bed to open the window just near the bed, I guessed it was Raaga Puriya Dhanashri he was singing; “Kaahe ched mohe garbha lagaye”. As I opened the window the sunrays flashed upon my eyes making everything white.

Ta-Thai-ta-ta-Thai, Ta-Thai-ta-ta-Thai. Masterji was playing the tabla and at the same time singing, “Ta-Thai-ta-ta-Thai.” I was trying to understand his rhythm and was dancing on the beats. He was my katthak master who used to come our home for katthak training. I was eight years old now and the most talented, and sweet child in my family. I was very interested in dancing so my papa had brought a home tutor to teach katthak. Still, situation was same in the family. A girl was not as free as a boy was. But I enjoyed my katthak classes every day.

“Khushboo beta, ye teen taal hai, yaad rakhana.” He was claping his hands for every taal trying his best to make me understand. I was very clever. I understood it clearly and demonstrated the same thing to him. He was very happy.

“Aur masterji, ye ‘chal matwali’ gaane ka raag kaunsa hai?”

He hummed the tune in his mouth, closing his eyed in as he had disappeared in heaven. Still humming. Suddely he came back from that heaven and said, “Raag Puriya Dhanashri”.

Today Amit was also singing Puriya dhanashri. It made me remember my childhood. I got up from the bed and got ready to go for the school. Amit has summer vacation in monsoon so he is at home all the time. He dropped me at the school and went back to take sleep.

I observed one thing about VKE school, as well as I enter the school, I feel alive, more energetic and enthusiastic. May be this is my inborn quality. The fast life inside the school was started. Did not know how time went so early. It was last session. Dance teacher Chandu sir came. He thinks he looks and dances like Michael Jackson so he prefer to be called as Michael sir. The dance session started. CD player’s sound and the rhythm of the song “Ibn – a – batuta” making us tap our feet. I was watching him and thinking I dance better than him.

That was a Friday night. Amit and I were watching a dance show on TV. A small girl named Swasti came on the floor and performed superb katthak on ‘Taare Zameen Par’ song. It was so amazing that even the juries gave her standing ovation. She was dancing as well as singing the song though it was playing on the CD player. When asked by one of the judges why she was singing while dancing, she replied, “Hamaare Bhagalpur mein humesha bijili jaati hai. To hum khud hi gaana bolkar dance ki practice karte hain.” I was very pleased to see that girl from the same town, Bhagalpur, where I was born and brought up, was performing in such a polpular dance show. “Amazing!”. I said to myself feeling proud of my town. Suddenly the pressure cooker whistled loudly, “Fooossshhhhhh” and I lost in my childhood.

It was my dream to perform on TV reality show. I was very good in katthak and won many inter-school prizes. Once a district level competition was held and I was sent by the school for that competition. First time in life I had seen such a big competition. The stage was too big to dance and there were hundreds of participants came from well known schools and dance academies. I decided to myself that I had to dance not to win the competition but to please myself. That thought stopped my shivering feet and jumping heart and I was relaxed like I had already won the competition. That was a good sign of self confidence. When I went on stage and performed, I felt like I am dancing in my house, free movements with no stress. I enjoyed the competition. The result declared and I got first prize; a big silver trophy and Rs. 501 cash. I thought I was the happiest girl in the world. Yes, that was my day.

When I came back home my mother was so happy to see her daughter winning such a great competition, she started crying in an emotional outburst. She hugged me and kissed me many a times. To see her crying I also cried. You know, you can’t see you parents cry, the scene makes you cry. Same happened with me that time. My mother showed that trophy to everyone in the house, my uncle, aunt, my cousins and my papa. But papa was not looking as happy as mom was.

“Main to meri beti ko bada hokar Madhuri Dixit jaisi dancer banaaungi”, mom said kissing my cheeks one more time.

Papa made a serious, somewhat angry expression by bringing his eyebrows closer together, lines appeared on his forehead. He was of traditional thinking that girls are good for household things. “Dancer banake usko kya orchestra mein nachana hai. Wo dance jarur sikhegi, lekin dancer banke TV show mein jaane ke liye nahi, to apne khushi ke liye.”

Life is so colourful. Just a moment ago I was so happy for getting the prize and now I am all in despair for seeing my future not as a dancer. I went and lied down on bed, crying alone. The silver trophy was still there in my hand. I had no option but to keep it aside. Mom called me from the bathrooom saying, “Mickey,my pet name, cooker ki teen sitiya ho gayi hai. Gas band kardo.”

I was opening the cooker lid and arranging the food for Amit and me. On every turn of life I was living my childhood. I was really living my real ‘ME’.

On the dining table Amit asked me, “I was also very good in dance but I left and concentrate on my singing. My dancing skills never help me anyways. Did your dancing help you?”

“Yes, it did.” I continued. “Just because I was very intelligent in dance as well as in academics my both sisters and a brother used to get concession in fees in Bhagalpur school. School did not ask me for fees from the day I won the inter-school dance competition. School used to know my brother and sisters, even my parents with my name. Even now when mom goes to the town and visits school, they say, “Khushboo ki maa aayi hai.” Sometimes its beneficial to be talented in the school. I had taken advantage of that.” I finished my dinner and slept while watching movie on computer.

Flashing Memories Upon My Inward Eye

That was a rush day in the school. My class was very crowded and messy as students were coming through rain. Rain has disturbed the lifestyle since last week. Being the class teacher of the class, it was my responsibility to keep thing going on at any cost and I was managing them at my best.

“Didi, door mat thik se rakho, nahi to poora class ganda ha jayega”, I cried on our class-maid while arranging the tables and chairs properly for my students. They are too small to arrange.

“Thik hai madam” Didi replied and arranged the door mat wiping the mud with it. Students were coming with muddy shoes and didi was hurringly cleaning the class whispering something in her mouth. She must be saying, “Ye baarish kyu hoti hai, hamara hi kaam aur jyaada bad jata hai. Yha par class saaf karo aur ghar jaake baarish se bachne ke liye har jagah bartan rakho. Ye to ek aafat hai”

Slowly the day stated becoming slow. The rush on the start of the day was now no more. We were enjoying our dull skied afternoon as usual. You know, every day has the same routine for teachers like us but though we don’t feel it same because of these kids.

The rain now was stopped for a while but the clouds were still hiding the sun. I was teaching my kids English grammar and they were enjoying. Post-lunch sleepiness and laziness can be seen in everyone’s eyes except kids. Their energy was still the same.

Suddenly Ronak’s father arrived . I went outside to see what happened.

“Mam, can we take Ronak an hour early before the school gets over?” Today is his sister’s one month anniversary and we have a big party at Hotel . I came to invite you. Please come for the party and to give blessing for the one month old child.”

“Sir, actually it is not possible for me to come as I have taken my doctor’s appointment for today.” I was trying to avoid the invitation with a normal but seems to be authentic lie. The raindrops started falling down. It was sign for the shower so went inside the classroom.

“I have invited everyone from the school as well as from my office. It will be pleasure if you come.” He said with an honest smile on his face and he went off.

Suddenly the thunderstorm cracked in the clouds.

Papa has organized a big party for the whole village. There was a Diwali like atmosphere in the whole family. Being the most beloved youngest son of the family, my papa was always loved by my grandma and others. That day was the best day of his life because today he has become a father. I was born with a great fortune and a silver spoon in mouth. I was the first child to my mom and she was feeling great. Neighbors were saying that Goddess Laxmi has born, she will make everything alright.

That must be a great treat for the whole village of Bhagalpur. A small town in Bihar, Bhagalpur is very famous for silk trading. Born in a traditional marwadi businessmen family, my papa and grandma did not bother to feed the whole town. So many sweets were distributed amongst the poor and they were blessing the couple of hours old infant. The joy lasted for couple of months.

I liked to listen this story of my birth from my mom and she used to tell me this story whenever I asked. Today Ronak’s father’s invitation for the whole school and his office made me remember all those days of royalty. I laughed to myself as I was lost all in dreams. I went inside the class and continued teaching my students.

The school got over. Everybody was rushing towards the punching machine. The punching machine is very naughty. It knows that we are in hurry so it many a times did not recognizes our finger prints. Maushmi, one of my colleagues, tried three times and finally at the fourth she succeeded in logging out. The machine was taking a lot of time and the crowd at the entrance was increasing. Somehow I went fourth pushing other teachers just like how the people in Mumbai get into the crowded local trains. I logged out at first attempt only. I thought to myself that the machine knows me now.

Deepshikha ma’am dropped me near my home. She stays just a minute away from my home. As Amit, my husband, goes to home tuitions early, he can’t come to pick me.

Amit came late due to heavy rain. He was all wet from head to toe. He arranged himself and we together started having our dinner. It is a universal fact that if there is more noise of spoon and fork at the dinner time on the dining table than the human voice, it mean something has gone wrong. But it never happened with both of us. Mostly we share our ‘What happen today?’ with each other. That dinner was not different. I told him everything what happened today in the class, how my kids and I danced in the dance period, how we did inquiry about lizards, and all the fun.

“How many student are there in your PYP II class?”, Amit asked me in a grumbling voice, filling his half filled mouth with one more spoon of rice and dal.

“27 students”, I replied drinking chilled water from water bottle, giving indication that I could not eat more. I went to the wash basin.

“How many girls and how many boys?”, he continued asking and filling his mouth with a big chapati and sabji.

“21 boys and 6 girls” I replied while washing my hand. Suddenly I came out in the room with cleaning my hands with a napkin to ask him a doubt which I wanted to ask him from past so many days.

“Ha Amit, I wanted to ask you one thing but everytime I forgot, why there are more boys in every class than girls in our school? Is this the same situation you observed in other schools?” My curiosity is always curiously answered by him.

Curiously he replied, “Yaa, even in my school the ratio of boys to girls is worst than your schools. It is 5 is to one.”

“Why is it so?”, my endless curiosity made me ask one more question. After all I am an IB teacher showing the attributes of an inquirer.

“Oh IB teacher, don’t inquire too much. “ He switched on the TV set to watch his favorite music program. While changing the TV channels he answered, “May be because they don’t want to invest more money in their daughter’s education than that of their son’s. Even you IB and my Cambridge are asking for one and half lakh for each child for admission. So, better son should learn in IB or cambridge or daughter in government school. “ Suddenly a loud thunder light fell somewhere making a loud noise as if clouds are fighting with each other.

In love, care and rich atmosphere I was growing up. Everything was all right. I used to get what I cried for. Barbie dolls, great fruits, royal clothes and everything was there to make me happy. I was three and half years old, my mom decided to admit me in an English medium school. She used to think that English education would make her daughter independent in thinking as well as economically. But the whole family was against her decision. Grandma expressed her denial to my father and told him not to listen to my mom. My uncle was also not agreeing with the idea that a girl should be educate in an English medium school. He had 3 daughters and all were in Hindi medium municipality school.

“English padhke kya karegi teri ladki, ghar hi to sambhalana hai na. Paise ginane tak sikh liya to bhi bahut hua. Vaise bhi hum log ladkiyo ko jyaada shiksha nahi dete. I didn’t understand what they were talking but I was sure that they were against my mom. But after a long struggle my mom was succeeded in admitting me in English medium school.

It was still raining outside. Amit and I were standing at the window and looking at the deserted wet road. The yellow light from the lamp post was turning the raindrops falling on the road into golden marbles. Those golden marbles were falling down and turning into water. The road was washed by the heavy rain and it was looking like a bride ready for the marriage ceremony. After a long time I have observed raining, may be first time, I have observed the beauty of rain. And there I saw a women with an umbrella and her two kids. The misery of womanhood started reflecting in the water. The memories of my childhood still following me wherever I go, just like my shadow; and even in dark and light.