By Savitri Narayanan
The audience waited patiently for the function to start. The volunteers stood around keeping an eye all over. A dozen students from the Eternal Hope orphanage next-door were lined up at the gate to welcome the Chief Guest.
It was the Annual Day celebrations of the Eternal Hope Women’s Shelter. The Chief Guest was the Block Development Officer who had taken charge recently.
Soon a car drove in, and the Chief Guest alighted to loud applause.
“It is our honour to have our BDO Madam Noopur Kumari among us today,” said the Panchayat President. “A capable administrator and a caring social worker, I hand over the mike to madam!”
Apart from the inmates of the shelter, the audience consisted of the children of the orphanage, and the nearby villagers. Rarely did they get an opportunity like this to assemble and listen to a dignitary.
“I can see many young faces among you, so I wish to share with you something that happened when I was like you,” started Noopur.
Years rolled back in her mind as she told them about her own school days….
“The topic for today’s composition is, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up’,” said the teacher. “Discuss in groups for ten minutes and write a paragraph.” As the minutes passed, the discussions turned more animated. So many options, so much to do, so much to achieve!
“I want to be a teacher!” was Noopur’s stand, “like Kamala madam!”
Very often the same topic came up for composition, but Noopur never changed her mind. So good to be a teacher, knowledgeable, caring and helpful!
As the bell chimed, the teacher collected the notebooks and said, “Focus on your studies, Class XII grades will limit or open up opportunities!”
‘Where would the nearest teacher training institute be,’ thought Noopur as she walked back home.
She was surprised to see pairs of footwear outside the front door.
Noopur took the side passage to the backyard. Mummyji wasn’t there in the kitchen. Noopur sat in the corner with her glass of milk and snacks.
The conversations from the living room floated into the kitchen.
“He’s a millionaire! Enough money for the children and grandchildren too to live in luxury!”
“He lives all by himself in a bungalow in Kailashpur with servants waiting hand and foot.” The voice sounded like mamaji’s. “Noopur too can live like a queen for the rest of her life!”
“All that Makhan Lalji wants is a wife, a lady at home,” said mamiji. “His wife was sick and bed-ridden for years, passed away last month.”
“But bitiya is only sixteen!” said papaji.
“Talk about her studies, not marriage,” said bhaiyya, his voice rising.
“Keep quiet,” mamaji’s voice rose too. “Just a college student, what do you know about money matters?”
“Both his daughters are married off long ago. In the bungalow there live only Makhan Lalji and servants,” said mamiji. “Noopur would be a queen!”
“This marriage will not happen,” said papaji. “I’m not so greedy as to sell my bitiya to a widower, however rich he is!”
Noopur couldn’t take it anymore. She put down her plate and ran out to the backyard.
***
The talk about Noopur’s marriage continued over dinner.
Mummyji was all for it.
“Sweet of Raju bhaiyya to bring this alliance,” she said. “There’s absolutely no demand for dowry and Makhan Lalji wants a small, simple wedding. Hardly any expenses!”
“Mummyji, you too have turned greedy,” said bhaiyya, “Let Noopur complete her studies!”
“This marriage will not happen,” said papaji, “I will not allow it!”
“Has anybody asked her what she wants to do?” asked bhaiyya pointing at Noopur.
“You both can only argue and turn away a good proposal,’ mummyji closed the topic and got up. “Have asked Raju Bhaiyya to proceed!”
Noopur burst into tears and ran to the bedroom.
* * *
A week later, one afternoon when, both, papaji and bhaiyya were not at home, a taxi stopped at the gate. Mummyji had a few bags ready which she brought to the verandah and beckoned the taxi driver. He loaded them in the trunk.
“Come, we’re going to mamaji’s house,” said mummyji, “Get in.”
Noopur usually looked forward to the holidays at mamaji’s place but not this time!
The next few days were like a bad dream. One fine morning, she was dressed up in bridal clothes. The wedding ceremony was in some small temple. Noopur’s face was covered with a dupatta. The man who stood facing her wore white kurta pajama and had a head dress too. In a trance, the ceremony was over and Noopur got into the car with the man.
Both Mamaji and mamiji were present at the ceremony.
“Behave yourself, hold your tongue,” mamiji whispered in Noopur’s ears and then said aloud, “Take care of your husband and look after the household matters; may God bless you!”
The man sat beside her in the back seat of the car. As they drove along, the gentleman put his hand on Noopur’s palm. She quickly pulled back.
The bungalow’s front door was open. A few men and women stood around.
Two elderly women sang a song and did aarati as holding Noopur’s hand he entered the house. Soon tea was served. As if in a dream, Noopur sat on the rug as the women beside ate and made small talk.
“Tomorrow early morning we’re going to the temple,” said the elderly woman as they got up to leave.
In the morning, Noopur was escorted there. After the rituals, they came out to circumambulate the temple.
Noopur had made up her mind. She ran away through a side entrance. She waved to an auto.
“Heera Ganj gaon,” she said. “Near the Post office.”
That’s where Kamala madam lived. Kamala madam was her Primary School principal, now retired.
Madam listened carefully as Noopur narrated her plight. At the end she said, “Noopur, I am sorry to hear all this,” her voice full of sympathy, “Go back to your parents now!”
Noopur burst into tears.
“Alternately I can call your father,” she said, “He’ll come here to take you home!”
“Please madam, don’t send me back,” sobbed Noopur, “I want to study!”
Kamala madam sat quietly for some time taking stock of the situation.
“Let’s see,” she said and turned to her helper, “Take bitiya inside and make sure she eats well!”
Back in the verandah with a good meal inside her, Noopur felt relaxed and more at peace.
“It’s clear that you’ve made up your mind to be a teacher,” madam addressed her fondly. “I will help you.”
With those words, she picked up the phone and made a few calls. Then she turned to Noopur and gave her instructions,
“Go and report to the ‘Home for Destitutes’ near the Municipal Office, aunty will escort you,” she said, signalling the helper. “They will provide you shelter.” Kamala madam continued, “My lawyer will advise me how to legally adopt and support you.”
And she did!
“Kamala madam gave me a new life; I owe my education and career to her,” Noopur told the girls, concluding her speech, “Pursue your dreams, there are many good people and institutions willing to help you. You’re the ones to take the initiative!”
There was loud applause from the audience and a glow of hope in the eyes of the inmates of the Women’s Shelter.
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(Savitri Narayanan is a retired educationist at present in Bangaluru. A mother and grandmother, loves reading, writing and travelling.)
