“Mamma…. Mamma…” Thirteen year old Netra came home running. Protima was working from home that day as she was feeling feverish.
“What’s up girl?” Protima replied from her desk, “What has been so exciting in the school? In our days we used to be so bored.”
“Did you know that the blood-group of a child can be predicted by the blood-group of parents,” Netra dropped the school bag on her bed and came running to her.
“So?”
“So – we were playing this game of predicting our own blood groups from our parents’ and I realized that I don’t know either yours or Daddy’s blood group. I want to know.”
Protima’s face turned pale on hearing this and she stared at her daughter.
“What happened Mamma?”
“Netra, get your food from the fridge and finish it. I will be with you in a minute…”
“But I just wanted to…”
“I have to talk to you. Let me just finish this e-mail, please.”
“Okay!” Netra was annoyed, but she obeyed her mother.
Protima took couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves down after Netra left. The day had come! She will have to tell her the truth.
—
Netra was just finishing eating, when Protima came and sat beside her on the dining table.
“What’s up Mamma? Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Of course,” Protima tried to smile, “Are you done eating?”
“Yes.”
“Netra. You know that I love you. More than anything else in the world, more than my life.”
“Why are you talking like that Mamma?” Netra could sense her anxiety.
“Because it should not matter to you that you will not be able to predict your blood group with mine or your Daddy’s.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are adopted, Netra.”
Protima paused. It was Netra’s turn to go pale.
“You… you are joking, right?” she asked.
“No. I won’t joke about something like that. But it really doesn’t matter, darling.”
Netra got up, went to her room and locked it behind her. Protima looked on helplessly. “You would have handled it better Mathew,” she murmured, “How would you have done it?”
She waited for ten minutes for Netra to come out. Then went to her room and knocked on the door.
“Netra. Baby, please. You are scaring me. Please open the door.”
Netra opened it and Protima followed her into the room.
“What are you thinking? Talk to me. Please, Netra.”
She remained silent.
“Have you ever felt like you didn’t have a mother?”
“No Mamma. It’s not that. Just… I’m so confused and angry. And I know it’s not fair to be angry on you. Why was I adopted? Who are my real parents?”
“You mean your biological parents. We are your real parents. I don’t know who or where they are. You were not with them when I brought you.”
“So, there is no Daddy really, right? You had made up a story.”
“No. That’s not true.”
“How come he has never come to see me or you in all these thirteen years? I never asked you Mamma, but the question has been bugging me for quite some time now.”
“You want to know?”
“Of course, I want to know. I am feeling so lost right now.”
“Let me tell you a story…”
“Not a story Mamma.”
“It’s a real one.”
“Okay.”
—
“The admission letter has come. You have to go to the boarding in Mussoorie. You leave in a week’s time.” Seventeen year old Protima was informed by her Maasi.
“And he doesn’t think he needs to talk to me about it, right?” she had replied defiantly.
“It is your own doing Protima. You have gone beyond control. It took you two years to pass class tenth. Then again you were thrown out of the school for God-forbid-what reasons. And I can’t be here all my life trying to stop you from wayward ways.”
“Of course not. You have to go back, get married and then make babies. A few more morons like me, right?”
“Mind your language, girl! No wonder your father was left with no option.”
“He is too busy mourning his drunkard wife to mind me or my business.”
“I don’t want to talk to you. One more week and then I am done. You don’t have respect for your dead mother or your own father. Why should I expect to get any decent treatment from you?”
“You are right. You are wasting my and your own time.”
—
“Pratima Ganguli, eh?” some older students came to her in the boarding school as she was arranging her stuff on the table.
“It’s Protima. Protima Ganguli.”
“So touchy!! And if we refused to call you that.”
“Then as far as I am concerned, you are not talking to me.”
“Really Pratima?” one of them picked up a paper-weight from her table and started playing with it.
“Give it back,” Protima shouted.
“And if I don’t,” she smiled coquettishly.
Protima went forward and slapped the girl startling them all. While they were still staring at her in astonishment, she grabbed the paper-weight back and kept it on the table.
“Mind your own business,” she barked at them.
“You will pay for this,” another girl in the group said and they went back.
“Are you Pratima Ganguli?” a girl came into the room and asked.
“Protima Ganguli.”
“Whatever. The warden is calling you.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know. Go and find out. You must have broken some rule.”
“Rules – my foot,” Protima murmured and got up to go to the warden’s office.
—
“Pratima, what is that I am hearing…” the warden started to speak.
“I thought this was a place for educated people. Why can’t a single person pronounce my name correctly?”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Protima, not Pratima!”
“All right,” the warden sighed, “Protima. Did you slap a girl today?”
“Yes.”
“You know that was wrong?”
“No. It wasn’t.”
“Really? Why not?”
“They were threatening me. Defending myself was not wrong.”
“If someone troubles you, you should come to me. You can’t go about picking up physical fights like that.”
“It is your duty to ensure that nobody troubles me. What good will you do by coming in, when they have already troubled me? Now, if you would please excuse me. I am tired from my journey.”
“Listen to me. Pratima… Protima…”
But Protima had left leaving a baffled and angry warden behind.
She was indeed tired and slept off for few hours. When she woke up the other two beds were also occupied.
“Hi,” one of the girls greeted her, “You are the new girl, I presume. The one who slapped Sugandha?”
“Am I famous for that?”
“Like hell you are girl. Your name is…”
“Protima Ganguli and for God’s sake, do not call me Pratima.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“What’s your name?”
“Tara Mehra.”
“If I called you Tora, would it be the same thing?”
“Oh my God, you are so funny,” Tara laughed out loud, “But point taken. I won’t call you Pratima. You are Protima. And this is Mary Joseph,” she pointed to the third girl in the room.
“Hi Pra… Protima.”
“Hi Mary.”
“You must be in class 11th?”
“Yes.”
“Which section?”
“B.”
“Cool. Then we can go to the classes together.”
—
“Protima. Get up. You will get late for the morning exercise. Protima…” Tara shook her.
“What the fu… What are you doing? What time is it?”
“5.45 already. We have to be on the ground by 6.”
“Are you crazy? Who gets up at this time? That too in a cold place like Mussoorie?”
“Haven’t you seen the daily schedule. Get up.”
“I am not going.”
“It’s not your choice.”
“I don’t care.”
“What should I tell the teacher?”
“Nothing. Tell them you don’t know about me.”
“You are too much. Fend for yourself. Come Mary. We have to rush.”
“Protima,” warden came looking for her after ten minutes, “Get up darling. It’s time for morning exercise.”
“I don’t want to exercise.”
“But you have to. It is required for physical fitness.”
“I am perfectly fit.”
“Enough of this drama. If you want to stay at this place, you follow the rules like everyone else does, get it? It’s your first day, I will talk to the PE teacher. He won’t punish you for being late. But that’s it. You are getting up now.”
“What will you do if I don’t get up?”
“You will be punished.”
“Cool. Punish me, if you can.”
“What on earth is wrong with you?”
“I don’t know. Please let me sleep,” she pulled up her blanket over her face.
Warden did not know what to do next. She decided to report to the principal.
—
“Hello new birdie!” a well-built boy approached Protima as she was walking to the classes with Tara and Mary.
“Let her be Rohit. Do you want to be reported to the principal?” Tara tried to shew him away.
“Awww… why sweetheart, are you jealous? I can handle two of you together.”
“No thanks! My days are not that bad.”
“Let him be Tara. What do you want from me?”
“Let’s get introduced.”
“My name is Protima Ganguli and when you learn to pronounce it right, you can come back for the rest of the introduction.”
“Uh oh… Not so fast sweety,” he was surprised when Protima held his hand, with which he was going to pat her back and tore out a sticker from there. The sticker said “I am available”. He was planning to put it on her back.
“Grow up Kiddo,” Protima told him, “I have done these things at least three times more often than you have. Think of something more intelligent”
Tara and Mary giggled making the boy go red in face. They moved on.
“Excuse me Ma’am,” a boy approached Protima during the break. He had a rose in his hands, “Please accept this from your slave.”
Protima sighed and asked, “Are you a new student?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
“I am no Ma’am. My name is Protima. Take this rose back to the person and tell him that if he has the guts, he should come and give it to me directly.”
“But…”
“Go.”
“I like girls with attitude,” another boy came to her with the rose. From his demeanour it was clear that he was the older student who was ragging the new ones.
“So?”
“So. I like you.”
“So does almost everyone on this ground right now.”
“But you will accept the rose from me.”
“No. I won’t.”
She got up and started to move away.
“Come on darling. You don’t know who I am.”
“I don’t want to know more about losers.”
He got irritated, held her hands and pulled her towards him, “You will take this rose, do you understand?”
Protima lifted her right foot and without any warning, hit his crotch with her knees. He cried out in pain.
It took everyone a few seconds to realize what had happened. Then all the students, boys and girls alike, started laughing, while two of the faculty members who had seen them from afar ran to them. One of them took the boy away to help him, while the other grabbed Protima’s hand and took her to the principal’s office.
Principal sighed as he heard her name. He had already gotten complaints from the warden and the PE teacher since yesterday.
“What’s the problem child?” Father Rogers, the principal, asked her.
“I have no problem.”
“Then why are you going around hitting people left and right?”
“I am not hitting people left and right. That boy was harassing me.”
“Teachers have seen the two of you. He was only offering a rose. It’s okay to be offended by that and not accept it. You could have complained about him to me or to any of the other staff members. But hitting someone is not right.”
“Then do what you want to do with me. Send me back.”
“This is a place of learning child. You will learn too, right from wrong, good from bad.”
“I am not so sure. Can I leave now?”
“Wait a minute. I want you to meet Brother Mathew.”
“What for?”
“He will be your counsellor.”
“And do what?”
“Help you adjust.”
“I don’t want to…”
“Come with me,” he did not give her a chance to complete her protest. She was a handful, but he also had the experience of several years in managing students of all kinds, including the problematic ones.
He made her wait outside Mathew’s office for few minutes, while he talked to him. He came out and asked her to go in. Mathew’s office looked like a psychiatrist’s office to Protima and she chuckled loudly.
“You are finding something funny here Protima?”
“Nah! Just familiar. I have been to many a psychiatrists and so I can tell that you are a psychiatrist in disguise Brother Mathew,” she pronounced the word brother with so much sarcasm that it was not lost on Mathew.
He smiled, “You don’t have to call me Brother, if you find it so unnatural. My name is Mathew.”
“How on earth did you pronounce my name right?”
“Well. I know a bit of Bengali as I have lived in Kolkata for a few years.”
“And so you pronounce even Kolkata right. I am impressed. So tell me, how are you going to fix me?”
“Do you think you need to be fixed?”
“Everyone thinks so.”
“But I am asking what you think.”
“Does it matter what I think.”
“Of course, it does.”
“To whom.”
“When it is about you and your life, what you think is what matters most.”
“To nobody.”
“It matters to God!”
“Oh right! That’s the difference between you and the psychiatrists. At least they don’t bring God in between.”
“So, you don’t believe in God?”
“Have you seen God?”
“Yes.”
“Wow! Where? How?”
“God is in everyone.”
“Really,” Protima laughed innocently, “If he is in me, he must be a pretty bad sort of a guy.”
Mathew also laughed, “That was witty. It’s okay. You don’t believe God is looking after you. In that case, you have to believe in yourself, your life choices.”
“Is there a point in living for yourself?”
“If there isn’t, you can live for others.”
“Others don’t care.”
“That’s not true. There is always someone…”
“There is no one. Can I leave now?”
“I would like you to stay.”
“I am leaving.”
“Promise me you will come to me tomorrow after the class.”
“I promise nothing.”
“But I will wait.”
—
“Protima. You will have to stay in a single room for a few days,” the warden informed her.
“Why?”
“Because you need some time for adjustment.”
“What adjustment?”
“Don’t act so innocent. You have been acting violent towards your fellow students. Until we are sure that you have gotten over it, we can’t have you live with others.”
“Just for your information, I am happy to have a room to myself. I like my privacy very much. But I didn’t hit my roommates or anyone else who hadn’t bothered me.”
“We will evaluate that in time.”
“Great. Thanks.”
At Mathew’s request, no one bothered her for the morning exercise the next day. Her violent nature had been made famous by the victims of the previous day and nobody bothered her during the classes. After the classes, she almost absent-mindedly walked into Mathew’s office.
“I am so glad you came,” he looked genuinely happy.
“I had nothing to do.”
“You don’t want me to feel victorious. That’s fine. I won’t!”
“Huh?”
“You said you came because you had nothing to do.”
“Well…” she appeared confused and sat down on a chair without waiting for an invitation from him.
“So, how was your day?”
“I didn’t hit anybody, if that’s what you want to ask.”
“No. I just asked how was your day? Why would you hit anybody?”
“I have hit people. That’s why I was sent to you.”
“You were sent to me because you needed to talk to someone. And then you hit people because they troubled you, right?”
“So, does that make it right?”
“Did you do it because you thought it was right?”
“No.”
“Then? Did you have no other choice?”
“I guess I did.”
“Then why did you hit them?”
“I don’t know…”
“Try to think. Not necessarily now…”
“I was successful. Nobody troubled me today.”
“So, are you happy today?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“This is not what I want in life.”
“What do you want in life?”
“Too many things, I guess.”
“What could happen different today so that you will feel happy?”
“Today?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on. Are you not happy just like that? There is something you would want to do that will make you happy.”
“Umm… I want to have four scoops of chocolate ice-cream today.”
“Okay. Let’s go and have four scoops of ice-cream.”
“What?”
“What happened?”
“Four scoops of ice-cream. Don’t you think it is crazy?”
“What’s wrong in being crazy once in a while.”
“It’s cold.”
“So, you said that because you thought I won’t agree to it.”
Protima looked a little embarrassed, “I guess so…”
“Why would you want my disapproval?”
“I don’t know. I will leave now.”
“You are free to come and go whenever you want. I hope to see you after classes tomorrow.”
“I don’t know if I will come.”
“I will wait.”
—
“So Protima. What will make you happy today?”
“Going out shopping.”
“Then do that.”
“I don’t want to go alone.”
“Take a friend with you.”
“I have none.”
“Well. You are new here. Make new friends.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Who do you want to go out with then?”
“You.”
“So, is this another way of making me say ‘no’ to something that will make you happy?”
“No. I want to go out with you.”
“All right.”
“You will come with me?”
“Yes. But not right now. I have to see a few more students. In evening at five. Get permission from your warden.”
“She won’t give me the permission.”
“I will talk to her.”
—
“I hope you are carrying the money, Protima.”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Because I can’t be a gentleman with you and pay for what you buy. I don’t have the kind of money you would need.”
Protima found it funny and laughed out loud, “Is that your pick-up line for girls? Does it work?”
“Excuse me?”
“Oops! Sorry. Brother Mathew,” she had the same sarcasm in her voice while saying ‘Brother’ as she had earlier, but Mathew did not react.
“How do these look?” Protima picked up a pair of ear-ring.
“Good.”
“And these?”
“Good.”
“And these?”
“They are good too.”
“They are horrible.”
“I see.”
“You are not helping.”
“Protima! Of course, I can’t help. What were you thinking? Why did you want to come with me?”
“Forget this then. Take me to some place of your choice.”
“Some place of my choice?” Mathew smiled patronizingly, “I’m sure going there is not going to make you happy.”
“Try me.”
“Will you go to a church?”
“Are you trying to convert me?”
“I am only telling you the place of my choice.”
“Really? That’s where you would go on a beautiful evening.”
“That’s where I would go to find peace and happiness.”
“Church is just a building.”
“Yes. Things are just things. But what you make out of them is what affects you. People are just people. Whether you make them friends or foes is what is going to decide how you feel around them.”
“Then you don’t really need a church to find peace, do you?”
“No. You don’t. We all have our choices. A baby finds peace in its mother’s arms. Someone else finds it in their lover’s embrace. Some might find it in their warm bed. You have to find yours.”
“You find yours in church?”
“And at a lot of other places. Actually I am at peace almost everywhere.”
“A mighty peaceful person you must be.”
“Not a bad thing, is it?”
“No. I guess not. How did you convince the warden to give me permission to come out today?”
“I told her that you will go for morning exercise like every one else from tomorrow.”
“What? When did I say I will.”
“You didn’t.”
“Then why did you tell her that?”
“I just gave her my word. You are not bound to keep it.”
“Why would you give word on my behalf.”
“I just did what I had to, to make you happy.”
“Make me happy today, and unhappy tomorrow?”
“If it does not make you happy to go for morning exercise, you don’t have to. No one will pester you.”
“But you will lose your word.”
“That’s not your problem.”
—
“So, how was your day Protima?”
“I’m sure you got the report.”
“Yeah. I got the report of what you did. You went for the exercise and followed every rule. But how did it go for you?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Were your roommates being mean to you?”
“I stay in a single room.”
“That’s a temporary arrangement. I mean you roommates from your original room.”
“No. They are being rather nice.”
“Then do you think you are ready to shift back with them?”
“I like my privacy.”
“Is there something so private that you don’t want to share with your friends?”
“They are not my friends. We are hardly acquainted.”
“They are not your foes, either. They can become your friends, if you share.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“What do you want to do then?”
“Can I just sit here for a while?”
“Sure.”
“Do you only have religious books in your shelves here?”
“No. There are all kinds of books.”
“Really? Romance?”
“Not Mills & Boons. But you can find something like ‘Gone with the Wind’.”
“Okay.”
Protima read for a while and then made to leave.
“Protima. You don’t need to come to see me now.”
“Why?”
“You look fine. You are settled and adjusted.”
“I see. So, you succeeded with your tricks with another problem-student. Another feather in your cap?”
“You were not a problem and I was not tricking you. What makes you feel like that?”
“Why can’t I come to see you then?”
“You can, if you want to. But you don’t have to.”
“Please keep my slot free, then.”
—
“So, what has made you or makes you so angry with people, with everything?”
“I thought you no longer needed to be the counsellor.”
“I am not being the counsellor. I am just curious to know. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Will you tell me about yourself?”
“I have a simple life. Ask away.”
“Why are you in the church?”
“My whole life has been there because of the church.”
“How so?”
“I was abandoned as a newborn on the church steps.”
“Oh! I am sorry,” Protima seemed very affected and disturbed by that information. She did not immediately ask anything else.
“What happened?” Mathew asked.
“Don’t you feel… angry at the people who abandoned you?”
“Do I? No.”
“Why not?”
“They must have had their reasons.”
“Have you never felt angry?”
“I never lacked love. Church and the people here ensured that. There were others like me – abandoned, orphaned, disowned… We grew up together. We were like a family.”
“So, all of them work for the church now.”
“No. everyone had their own calling. A couple of others are in the church. Most others have taken up other jobs, professions.”
“So, you weren’t under compulsion to join the church?”
“Of course not! How can anyone be forced to do God’s work?”
“This was your calling?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I felt like giving back, what I had gotten.”
“By helping people like me.”
“If I am able to, that’s one way.”
“But I am not abandoned. Not in the literal sense at least…”
“But you feel abandoned?”
Protima nodded.
“Feeling abandoned is worse than being abandoned Protima. Is that what makes you so angry?”
“Probably. I have… never really thought about it.”
“Then think. Unresolved issues clutter our mind and don’t let us do the constructive things. It’s better to understand what is bugging us and then let go of it.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It may not be as complicated as you make it out to be.”
“What do you do apart from church work and teaching and counselling in the school?”
Mathew thought for a moment, “Tomorrow is Sunday. I will be in the church in the morning. Why don’t you accompany me to my work after that?”
“Okay.”
—
“So, you run this community school for poor children?”
“Church does, actually. I only manage it. Many teachers volunteer here. Apart from overall management, I also look after the Sunday school.”
“Conversions, then?” Protima was a bit sarcastic.
“Spiritual upliftment. People do not need to convert for that.”
“I see.”
“Did you see what their lives are like, Protima? They live from hand to mouth. They die of simple and easy to treat diseases. The children are malnutritioned. Church works here, but there is never enough. The basic amenities of life that you, and even I, have always taken or granted, are luxuries for them. They don’t… they can’t worry about problems like depression, abandonment, anger. Definitely not about unmatched ear-rings or uncomfortable sunglasses. They have such real problems to face.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Don’t you feel that your problems are much simpler, less daunting compared to what these people face?”
Protima looked at him strangely, almost as if she was offended. Mathew could not understand her expression. He did not say anything.
She spoke after a while, “So, because I don’t have a problem of food, shelter, clothes and health, my problems are not real? The pain I feel is not supposed to hurt? My tears are not important?”
“Protima!” she had taken him by surprise with her questions.
“Good night,” she said and walked towards her hostel as they had reached back to the school.
—
“Thank God, you came Protima. I was about to send you an apology note through someone.”
“Apology note?”
“You must be angry at me. For the other day…”
“Why did you think I would be angry?”
“Why else did you not come to see for a week?”
“You had said I don’t need to if I don’t want to.”
“And till that day you had wanted to. Look I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry, if you said the right thing?”
“Because I said the wrong thing. I am sorry, I hurt you.”
Protima remained silent. He spoke again, “I thought about what you said all night. And I realized how wrong I was. I ask for your forgiveness.”
“I am not Father Rogers. What could my forgiveness mean to you?”
“Going to the church’s confession box is either for cowards, when you don’t have the strength to apologize to the one you have wronged, or for those with no other choice, when you can’t apologize to the wronged person. Right now, your forgiveness will be God’s forgiveness to me.”
“You might have hurt others in past. What about them?”
“I may not have. I don’t remember ever doing that comparison before anyone else. But to account for the case that I might have done that inadvertently, I will go to Father Rogers as well.”
“I am not angry at you. You may not have been right in discounting the problems of the rich, but there was some thing to think about.”
“What did you think about?”
“When someone is hungry, he really can not force his body to do something. When someone is angry, it is in his power to forget it and move on.”
“That’s a very mature thought.”
“Not easy though.”
“I agree. But you have help.”
“How can you help me?”
“Why don’t you tell me what your problem is?”
Protima sighed, “I am jealous of other people, people who are happy. My batchmates… my friends if you like… They liked going back home after school. Their mothers waited for them. Their fathers looked after them, tracked their progress, talked to the class-teachers if they had any problems… Even here, everyone looks forward to the vacations, so that they can go back home. I don’t…”
“Why not?”
“Mom was never there. Dad was too busy. Mom had drinking problems. She died… Five years ago… She was driving, drunk… Crashed…”
“I am sorry, Protima,” Mathew genuinely was.
“I think I didn’t feel anything… She had never been there anyway… It was not like anything changed…. Well… Dad did… Even though he was busy, he used to ask after me, when he was around… But after Mom died, it seems like he is grieving till date. I think he has taken to drinking as well… I don’t know. He almost never sees me…”
“It has been a long time. Why did you come to the boarding now?”
“My maasi was staying with us most of the time. To look after me… But she found me impossible. I still failed class tenth twice. Managed to pass somehow the next year. But then was thrown out of school in class 11th.”
“Why?”
“For violent behaviour, drugs…”
“Drugs?” Mathew looked worried.
“I was only showing off,” Protima smiled sadly.
“Okay. Why violence?”
“I don’t know… I got angry, if someone bothered me. Even a little bit. Like it happened here too… And I didn’t have Mom or Dad to talk to the class teacher. Do I sound stupid?”
“No. You don’t.But tell me something, Protima. Has it always been like this with your parents?”
“Whatever I remember is like that…”
“Try to think Protima. There might have been better times, happy times. Close your eyes and think… Of a time when you were happy. Come on…”
She obeyed and closed her eyes.
“Think Protima…”
“It was my birthday. Mom had got me new bicycle. I was very happy. All my friends were there. We were waiting for Dad to cut the cake… And he came… He had brought me a puppy… I had always wanted one…” she opened her eyes. She had tears in them, “But by my next birthday, it had died…”
“Hey,” Mathew walked towards her and patted her head, “It’s all right. Calm down.”
She suddenly got up and hugged him tight. Mathew was taken aback. Surprise, bordering on shock, showed on his face. He did not hug her back and waited until she withdrew.
“I’m sorry,” she said embarrassed.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. I guess.”
“Sit down Protima.”
She obeyed.
“Your parents aren’t bad people, you realize that, right? You had happy times with them. Remember more of those. Something must have gone wrong and you were probably too young to understand it.”
“But everyone has problems. Does it mean they could abandon their daughter?”
“I don’t know. I can only guess. May be they were not strong enough. But you should forgive them for that. They are not bad people.”
“I guess you are right.”
“And you really have resources to make sure that you life, your dreams do not suffer because of this. You don’t lack money. Have dreams and go after them!”
Protima finally smiled through her tears, “Thank you.”
—
“Father Rogers. You wanted to see me?” Mathew entered Father’s office after getting permission.
“Yes. Mathew. Please sit down.” He waited for Mathew to sit down, then spoke again, “How has been the progress of this student, Protima Ganguli?”
“It has been good. Don’t you think so? She topped the class in the half-yearly exams. And her participation in sports is also encouraging. She might bring a medal or two in sprint events in this year’s inter-school competition.”
“Yes. But no other student has needed counselling for so long. It has been months…”
“She does not need counselling any longer.”
“But she sees you everyday.”
“She comes of her own accord…”
“Mathew. I will be direct. Is there something going on? People are talking and these children are my responsibility.”
“Father! What are you talking about? They are my responsibility too.”
“I know… I have always trusted you. But this closeness…”
“Trust me father. She is just… she feels abandoned by her family and if I can give some support that helps her…”
“I trust you Mathew. But can I trust her? What makes her come to you everyday. What if she is…”
“Father. She is a child. Even if she has a little crush, it is harmless. She will get over it.”
“I just thought I should let you know. Any scandal will not be good for either you, her or the school.”
“Rest assured Father.”
“I leave the rest to your judgement.”
“Thank you Father. You don’t have any reasons to be worried.”
—
“Do you know what will make me happy today?”
“What?”
“Going to your home.”
“My home?” Even after all these months of watching her, she managed to surprise him with her requests every now and then.
“Yes. Will you take me?”
“It may not be a good idea, Protima.”
“Why not?”
“It’s… Why do you want to go to my home?”
“So, finally you are going to say ‘no’ to me?”
“Come on, Protima. I thought you were over all of this.”
“What’s wrong?” she became serious, “Is there a problem? Have I done something…”
“No. No,” he had worked hard on sorting her out. He could not let her slip back to the feelings of insecurity and abandonment. So, he had to assure her, “Let’s go.”
“Great. What time?”
“Let’s leave at four. But you must be back in an hour.”
“I will Brother Mathew. I won’t let your reputation be tarnished. Don’t worry,” she giggled and Mathew felt uncomfortable. But he did not say anything.
—
“So. This is my humble abode,” Mathew said as they entered his house, “Don’t know what treasure you expect to find here.”
“Well there is wine and this looks nice, vintage…” she picked up a wine-bottle she located.
Mathew took it away from her hastily, “You are not old enough for this.”
“Well… I turn eighteen today. Old enough, you see.”
“It’s your birthday, Wow! Happy birthday.”
“So. Wine?”
“No. That’s not the way to celebrate a nice day.”
Protima smiled, “Right. I know you won’t let me drink it. I brought something for you.”
“For me?”
She took out a pen set from her handbag and handed it to him.
“I can’t take it. And it’s your birthday. You are the one who should be getting gifts. But…”
“You can’t do anything for me, that you can’t do for every student. Obviously, you can’t keep giving gifts to everyone. So, I need a way to celebrate it. That’s why a gift for you.”
“Nice play on words. But you know I can’t accept a gift from a student.”
“That’s why I wanted to come here. I am not in the school.I am your guest, not a student.”
“Protima…”
“Please,” she sounded so sincere and desperate that Mathew could not refuse her any longer.
“All right,” he said unwillingly, “But just this one time. Not again.”
“Fine. I will leave now.”
“Wait. You are my guest. Have some tea before going.”
“Okay. You will make it yourself?”
“Yeah. I do everything myself.”
—
It was her second year in the school.
“Can I ask you something Protima?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you come to see me every day?”
“Does it bother you?”
“Don’t dodge the question by asking something that will make me defensive.”
“You know my tricks well, then.”
“It has been over one year!”
“Right.”
“So. Why?”
“I… just need to… Else I will fall back to my old ways.”
“Why would you? Don’t you like how your life is now? You are doing well, you have friends, teachers like you, you are popular… Why would you fall back to your old ways?”
“Because I don’t do things right for popularity or friends or success. I do it because you want me to…”
“Protima. This is your life.”
“I know. Do I bother you?”
“No. Absolutely not. I feel really happy when you do well.”
“Yeah. When any of your students does well, right?”
“Right.”
—
She had hardly spoken anything that day, which was not unusual. She often came to his office, read few pages from a book, walked around and then left with a ‘bye’. But it was her restlessness that was making Mathew wonder. She was unable to concentrate on the book she had picked up. Her posture was tense. He finally had to ask.
“What is going on? Is there something you want to tell me?”
“You had asked me a few days back, why I came here everyday.”
“Yeah. So?”
“I come here because I love you,” Given her earlier discomfort she was surprisingly direct and unhesitant in saying this.
Mathew was unsettled, but he managed to pretend calmness, “That’s great. You should. I love you too.”
“The way you love the rest of the mankind?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah. But that’s not what I meant.”
Mathew sighed, “Right… Well… It’s not such a huge problem. You will get over it. You just…”
“Why should it be a problem? And I don’t need to get over it.”
Mathew smiled patronizingly, “You need to and you will. These confused feelings are not uncommon in people at your age…”
“I am older than most of your students. Remember I had to repeat classes.”
“Right… Older… By two years?” he was still smiling the same way.
“I am eighteen. Old enough to get married, have and raise a baby and elect our country’s government.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, it seems we are never too old to not make a mistake.”
“I am not making a mistake and I will prove it to you.”
“How?”
“You will see.”
“Protima. I am not going to let you spoil and waste your life.”
“For the first time I have found meaning in it.”
“You must stop seeing me.”
“Fine. Tell me to go away when I come next. I think it’s time for you to see your next student. Bye.”
—
Mathew was quite lost. He somehow gathered himself together and met with his other students, then left for his home earlier than usual. Should he have listened to Father Rogers’ advice? Had he been over-confident? Had he become weak and given her the wrong signals? His confusions and mental struggle became worse as time passed. He could not sleep at night, a very rare thing for him, and found himself down with fever in the morning. He called up at the school asking the administration to put up a notice of his absence on his office noticeboard.
—
Protima was panting by the time she reached his house. On seeing the notice in his office, she had panicked. What could have happened to him? She was surprised and relieved to see that the door of his house was not locked from inside. She rushed in. The house had only two rooms. She did not have difficulty in locating his bedroom. The door was open again. She rushed in.
He was lying on the bed, his eyes closed. She went close to him and touched his forehead. He was running high temperature. But he realized that someone was there. He opened his eyes.
“Protima?” he spoke weakly.
“What have you done to yourself? I don’t even know what to do? Did you take medicines?” she was almost choking on her words.
“You shouldn’t be here. I am fine. Go away.”
“No. Not until you are better.” She looked at the medicines lying on the table nearby, “You have already taken paracetamol?”
“Yes.”
“I will use cold water strips then,” she replied and went out to get water. She found a towel in the house and decided to use it for the strip.
Mathew was too weak to resist strongly. After a while, with the help of cold strips, his temperature came down.
“You should leave now, Protima.”
“Did this happen because of me? Because of what I said yesterday?”
He did not say anything.
“I think I got my reply,” she said sadly, “I am sorry. You don’t want me to come to you. I won’t come. I promise. But please let me make sure today that you are okay. Have you eaten anything?”
“No. I could not…”
“What can I get you?”
“It’s not needed…”
“Please. I am not good at these things. I won’t know on my own. Please help me.”
“Fine. Get me some milk and bread. There is shop right at the end of the street…”
“I know. I will be back in five minutes.”
She got the bread and milk, toasted the bread although burned them slightly in the process, boiled the milk and served him.
“Can I come back in the evening…” she began to ask when he had finished eating.
“No. I am fine. There is enough bread and milk. I will help myself.”
“Okay,” she was unwilling, but could not pester him. She looked at him longingly and left.
—
They hadn’t met each other for last four months, not since she had left him in his house after feeding him bread and milk. Her exams for class 12th were over and it was time to leave the school. She was packing her stuff, when she got a note from Mathew. It was written formally on his letterhead asking her to meet him that evening. A small smile formed on her lips, but she also wondered what they would talk about.
She knocked and walked into his office. She stood silently.
“How did your exams go?”
“Fine, I think. The results will tell…”
“You had done well in mock-tests.”
“Your tracked my results?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I have always wanted you to do well. I always will want so.”
“Thank you.”
“What are the future plans?”
“College in Mumbai, I think. Dad told me recently that we are shifting to Mumbai. His business headquarters had anyway shifted to Mumbai from Kolkata.”
“Good. Mumbai is a great city. A land of opportunities.”
“Hopefully.”
“I wanted to give you something.”
“What?”
“I know you don’t believe in God. But still, keep it as a symbol of goodness in life. You might find peace in it when you need it the most.” He handed her a cross with Christ. It could be used as a pendant.
She took it and clutched it hard in her hand as if ensuring it won’t go away, “Thank you. It means a lot.”
“All the best, Protima. And you have moved on, right?”
“No. I haven’t. I never will.”
“You must.”
“I won’t. And I think one day you will come to me.”
“I won’t Protima. Don’t wait for me. Live you life.”
“That I will do. I think… I have learned to live my life.”
“Remember, our lives are different. Our paths are different. They crossed for a while, to fulfill some purpose. But from now on…”
“I can see what purpose it served in my life. What did it serve in yours?”
“It taught me that just because people are well-fed and well-clothed, it does not mean their problems and pains are not real.”
Protima was surprised that he referred to an incident from long ago. She smiled wistfully, “Let’s see who wins my little challenge.”
Mathew also smiled, “If I win, Protima, you don’t lose either. It will be the real win for you too.”
“Same here. You won’t lose if I win.” She moved forward and kissed him on the cheek, “Bye Mathew.”
He wasn’t unsettled with it, but he did not reciprocate the physical gesture. “Good bye, Protima. Take care of yourself. There should be no looking back in your life.”
—
Netra was listening to the story with the wonder and curiosity of a child.
“And then, Mamma?” she asked eagerly.
Protima smiled, “And then I came to Mumbai. I had hardly started college, when your grandfather, my Dad came to me one day and said that I should get involved in business with him and work with him after my classes. I did not know why it could not wait until I finished college, But I did what he wanted. I wanted to keep busy and keep working. I realized why he did that when soon after I finished my BA, he had to step away from active management. He was suffering from heart problems. Open heart surgery was not so safe and prevalent then. He succumbed to his illness soon. You are probably not interested in this part, but it might be a life lesson for you too. So, I am telling you. Before dying he explained to me what had happened to him after my Mom’s death. Mom wasn’t the one driving the car when she had died in the accident. It was him. She was drunk and they were having some argument. Something went wrong with the car and he lost control. He asked Mom to jump out of the car as it was going to crash. But she was too drunk to follow his instructions. He jumped out and was saved. But he could never get over the guilt of not being able to save her. He had started ignoring me because seeing me always overwhelmed him with guilt. And he also told me the reason why Mom had taken to drinking.”
“Why?”
“Because she had contracted AIDS. Possibly through blood infusion or unhygienic syringe during her hospitalization a few days back for a minor surgery. Again, the awareness was not there and anyone who came to know about it questioned her character! She went into depression and started drinking. Sorry for these depressing stories darling. But it just came out…”
“It’s fine Mom.”
“Coming back to me. After Dad died, I just threw myself into my work. That was my life, apart from the occasional visits to the church, untill…”
“Untill?”
“Untill I heard about you in the church one day. When I saw you and came to know that…” she hesitated and paused.
“That I was abandoned at the church?” Netra completed the sentence for her.
Protima nodded, “I felt that you were a part of him Netra, who was sent to me by… God, I guess. Mathew’s God, even if I was not sure of His existence.”
“You never met each other after you left the school?”
“No.”
“Does he even know about me?”
“Of course, he does. I have always sent him letters, telling him everything about myself and you. He has your photographs. He never replied, but he always sent a card on your birthday.”
“I have never seen one…”
“I saved them all, but I did not show them to you earlier. Because I did not want to raise your hopes. I was waiting for the day, when you would know the story and understand. I think today is the day. Wait a minute.”
Protima went to her room and came back with a cardboard box. It had thirteen birthday cards. Netra looked at them and touched them one by one, getting emotional.
“Netra,” Protima addressed after she had looked at all the cards, “The one good thing my Dad did before dying was that he told me what had gone wrong with him and Mom. Because of that I could honestly assure him on his death-bed that I was not angry with him. It also helped me forgive them, truly forgive them. Like Mathew had said, they were not strong enough, but they were not bad people. Today you know everything you can about yourself, me and Mathew. It’s true that biologically we have not given birth to you. You also did not have the perfect, complete family life a child deserves. But if the best reason for a child to come in the world is the love her parents share, then nobody was born with a better reason than you. You are with us because of the love we shared. Even if you Daddy has not been physically there for you, I assure you that he loves you and always looks after you in his own ways.”
“This is surreal Mamma. You loved him so much that you waited for him all these years and never thought of…”
“Love, I realize now, is not good enough a word Netra. It is something that you can only feel. A spiritual connection is probably the closest thing in words to describe it, but it is loaded too. And no – I am not waiting for him. I stopped doing that long back. I know, now, that he was true to his word. But I don’t regret my decision either. I am very happy with my life.”
“Mamma…” Netra was overwhelmed.
“Do you hold grudges against me Netra? Or him? If there is something I could have done for you and I haven’t, if you have ever felt that you lacked a mother’s love, let me…”
“Stop it, Mamma,” finally tears had started flowing from Netra’s eyes, “I love you. And I know that no one can love someone like you do. I am the happiest and luckiest child in the world.” She hugged her mother.
“I love you darling. I love you a lot,” Protima was also teary-eyed as she hugged her daughter back and patted her lightly.
—
Four years later…
“Mamma. Class 12th exams are over and I am planning to go on a trip to Mussoorie and nearby places with my friends.”
Protima smiled. “I know where you are going and why. He is now Father Mathew. They have promotions too, you see,” she joked.
“Mamma!”
“Here. Take this,” she took out the chain she was wearing with the cross pendant. “The way people used to carry a piece of jewelry for identification in old days.”
“You are too much Mamma.”
“You will need permission to enter the school campus to meet him. So, you will need to call him beforehand…”
“No. That won’t do. I want it to be a surprise…”
“Then you have to catch him in the church… I don’t know what time is the best, except on the Sundays. Or get up at five in the morning. And find him in the public park for his morning walk.”
“Five in the morning? In Mussoorie?”
“Well…”
“All right. He must be God’s son. What else would explain having to do so many penances to reach him,” Netra joked and the mother-daughter duo laughed.
—
Protima did not have any photo of Mathew, but there weren’t many people in the park that early in the morning. Netra joined an elderly gentleman in his walk.
“Father Mathew?” she asked.
“Yes child. What brings you…” he stopped as he looked at her.
“Do you recognize this?” Netra held out the pendant she was wearing for him to see.
The look of surprise on his face changed to a smile, “It was not needed. I recognize you, Netra.”
She also smiled back.
“Come. Let’s sit down,” Mathew said.
“It’s so cold here. I have spent all my life in Mumbai. I can’t bear this. Can we go indoors somewhere?”
“The church is nearby, but I don’t know if you…”
“Why not? I have been brought up as a Christian?”
“Really?” Mathew looked at her in surprise.
“You didn’t know?”
“Protima never told me. She didn’t need to do this…”
“But she did, Daddy… I am sorry. Can I call you Daddy? After all Father and Daddy mean the same thing, right?”
Mathew laughed out loud, “No. They don’t mean the same thing. But yes – you can call me Daddy.”
They walked into the empty church and sat down on the chairs in the back row.
“How did you recognize me?” Netra asked, “By the photos Mamma sent?”
“You have changed your hair-style since the last photo she had sent. But see. Someone gifted me this recently. An old student,” he took out a large screen smart-phone from his pocket, “And he taught me something with which I can see your latest photos.”
Netra looked on curiously, as he, with lots of effort, tapped the phone screen to finally reach Facebook application, searched for her profile and went to her photos page. Then she broke into an amused laughter, “You have been stalking me on Facebook.”
“The joys of technology child. If it had been there in our times…”
“Would you have written to Mamma then?” she became serious.
“No. I had held on to the hope for a long time that she would move on and live her life normally.”
“And?”
“And she wasn’t normal. She was a little crazy. After you came, I knew this was how it was supposed to be. It was God’s will. You were God’s child.”
“You never came to see me.”
“I am sorry. Forgive me for that, if you can. But going away from here might have tempted me to abandon my duties to so many others who needed me. You had your mother. And I knew that she would have ample love for you. Was I wrong?”
“No.”
“But you should know that I love you.”
“Like you love everyone else who needs you?”
Mathew laughed slightly, as he remembered how Protima also used to ask in various ways, if he treated her in the same way as all the other students. Then he replied with a smile still on his lips, “No. You are special. And I am sure God will not mind my bias for you.”
“I am here for three days. Can I… stay with you?”
“Of course. For as long as you like and as long as you have time.”
“I wish I could stay longer, but I have enrolled in a vocational course for summers. So, I will have to go back. But for these three days, can I… can I ask you to step away from your duties and spend time with me. If it is not…”
“Yes. You can Netra. And your time starts right away. Let’s go home.”
—
Over next three days, Netra went to the places in the city she remembered from Protima’s story with Mathew – the market, the slum of poor people, the church, his office, various places on the school. They also spent a lot of time in the quiet, scenic places in Mussoorie trying to know more about each other. Netra soon realized that although Mathew worked hard to keep his emotional side in check, he was as eager to know about Protima and Netra, as they were about him. She felt nice. He showed her the pen Protima had gifted him all those years back. “I sign all your birthday cards with this,” he said.
“Really. You still get refills for such an old pen.”
“It’s an ink-pen Netra. And yes – you still get ink. Though kids these days don’t like to touch ink-pens I have seen.”
Netra grinned foolishly.
Soon, it was time to leave.
“Won’t you come to see her at least once, Daddy?” Netra asked before leaving.
“So, you have come here to fight the battle on behalf of you mother, eh? You want me to lose?” Mathew joke.
“Is there a battle?”
He smiled fondly, “No. There is none. I was joking.”
“I know.”
“I will come. At least once.”
“Can I call you?”
“Of course. Whenever you want. Why didn’t you call earlier? Did Protima ask you not to?”
“No. I never asked her, I had never met you. I wasn’t sure what would I talk over phone.”
“I will wait for your call.”
—
Ten years later…
Tired Netra came downstairs to open the door for the visitor and was extremely excited to see him.
“Daddy!” she cried and hugged him, “Thank you so much for coming. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming….”
“Where is she?”
“In her room. Please come.”
“Mamma. Look who is here?” Netra went by Protima’s bedside and gently held her hand.
“Who? Mathew? No. I am hallucinating,” she said lying on the bed. She had developed respiratory problems and could not move around much.
Mathew moved forward and sat down beside her on the bed, “That’s what I had thought thirty-five years ago, when I was down with high fever and you had walked in, to look after me, Protima.”
Protima was speechless for a few moments. Then she opened her mouth as if to say something, but ran short of words. In her excitement, she tried to get up, but Netra stopped her, “Easy Mom.”
“I am fine Netra,” she did finally sit up with Netra’s and Mathew’s help.
“I will be back in a bit. Just call me if you need me,” Netra said and went out leaving them alone.
“Say something, Protima,” Mathew said with a smile.
“I won,” she said playfully.
“Yeah. But I did too, right?”
She nodded, “Thank you for coming. But how did you manage?”
“I am sixty-five now. I retired from my church duties.”
“Then you will stay, right?” she looked so desperate that Mathew could not keep the surprise from her for long.
“Yes.”
“Thank you,” she got tears in her eyes, “I am so tired and weak. And Netra is alone.”
“I am here. And you have brought Netra up to be strong. She is fine. Don’t worry,” he got up, sat near the headboard of the bed and gave her a slight side hug. “I am here,” he said again.
She closed her eyes with smile on her lips. The last six months or so of her life were going to be spent in the company of her love. She couldn’t have lived a better life!
Netra, who had stopped at the door seeing them talking, wiped her tears and came in with the tea-tray.
– The End –
