Todhe andhere banaye naya saveera.
"So you see. Plants are also living things like us. Any questions?" Bondita Das sat on a rock in the middle of the ground as the children of her age and younger gathered around her. She looked elegant, wearing a smile on her lips and eager eyes, clad in a simple blue cotton saree, matching glass bangles, a pair of golden earrings, and a gold chain around her neck. Her hair was parted into two and tied into braids with a pair of blue ribbons. She was fifteen or sixteen this year, based on what her mother said in her letters.
She didn't remember much of her life before she came to Tulsipur. Only when her father passed away, her widowed mother was burdened with her, and the relatives at Krishna Nagar refused to help them. She remembered a large family. And lots of rules. And she remembered her mother hugging her. All these years, she had exchanged letters with her mother but never saw her. Perhaps she was seven or eight when she was brought here. She was the only lady in this house. Everyone loved her. The villagers respected her. She was groomed befitting of the zamindari ladies. With grooming classes and home tuition.
Perhaps it was because of the letters to her mother that the thirst for reading grew in her. She wanted to read, write and tell her thoughts on her own. She wanted to know all the answers to her endless questions. Trilochan Roy Chowdhury whom she lovingly called Kaka Babu was not her blood relative. Yet, growing up in the Roy Chowdhury mansion, it felt like home, and the people were her own.
At first, she was scared of Binoy as much as she adored Somnath Dada and Batuk. Batuk has become her friend, her very first real friend. Trilochan Roy Chowdhury, to her utter delight, agreed to homeschool her when she said she wanted to learn to read her mother's letters herself. He only had one condition. She had to take grooming classes as well. It wasn't long before Binoy too took a liking to her intelligence. She was unusual for her age, he often said. With Koeli and Bihari, the two main house helpers of the house, she learnt how to run a home, cook, sew and even prepare for festivities. But her favourite part of the day was this time in the playground.
Bondita didn't know when playtime became her little classroom. Perhaps because she wanted to share what she learned with the other girls. These girls, who belonged to various homes in the village, had never known a single letter or digit, let alone how to read or write. The mere thought of trees being alive, or the earth being a small part of something vast and endless, gave them goosebumps. They were eager to learn. As much as Bondita was eager to teach. Every day, she gathered them according to their age and taught them things she had learnt in the last few years. She found it easier to teach the younger ones. It was those her age that she had a problem with.
She stopped her cane at a green leaf. "See that green thing? That's where the food is made." She said,
"So it's the kitchen?" Someone asked. Bondita smiled. "So, what is needed to make this food?" She asked. "Anyone?"
The girls stared at each other.
"Choto Malkin." Bihari's voice rang through the ground as the girls were quick to hide their copies. Bondita threw away her cane and shut her book. She then looked back at Bihari. Behind him was Trilochan giving her cold stares. She smiled.
" This letter came for you," Bihari spoke first. Then, seeing his master stare, he bowed and left.
"This is good news." She gushed. "This is from the publisher. I was waiting for this." She smiled. Trilochan's brows raised in question.
"I… requested the publisher to give us a few free copies to start our classes with. Jamai babu wrote to them on my behalf."
"Classes?" Trilochan shook his head " How many times have I told you that the villagers will never send their daughters to study? If they see you teach them then they will stop their going out altogether. Or worse, blame you."
"But why Kaka?" Bondita frowned. "I am a girl. So are they. I have learnt the things they know. Cooking, sewing, mantras, sastras, everything. Then why can't they learn what I have?"
"They don't have the privilege of home tutors like you do." Trilochan looked calm. "We have discussed this before; everyone wants a Lakshmi at home, not a Saraswati." He reminded her of what he often heard his mother say.
"Yes, and yet both of them are part of the invincible Maa Durga. You know what that means. Don't you, Kaka? It means we need both of them to be powerful. What is the use of wealth if you can't count it?" Trilochan rolled his eyes at her.
"I want to use my privilege to help them. Kaka, education should be a free right."
"Bondita, it is useless telling you. But let me warn you, if the villagers find out, I won't save you or your Jamai Babu." He stopped at her intelligent grin.
"About that…"
"Are you out of your mind?" Trilochan sat down under the tree shed where Bihari had placed a chair for him. "A school for women in Tulsipur?"
"Why not?" Bondita had her arms on either side of her waist. "Am I asking for too much?" She frowned. Trilochan remembered his mother every time Bondita used this tone on him. The reverse psychology always worked. Trilochan shook his head.
"You already have that… err… store room." He reminded her.
"Yes, we store books there. The girls go and read whenever they are free to. Jamai Babu says those are common in cities. Libraries." She said remembering the exact term. "Do you know women in Calcutta not only learn but also teach?"
Trilochan got up to leave.
"There is no use telling me all these. You have to convince the people of Tulsipur. A school is of no use without a pupil. And I can bet you my name, they won't send their daughters." He turned to walk away.
"But Kaka, what if I can convince them?" He looked at the girl, a little taken aback. "Will you help me then?" He nodded. It was impossible. "You have my word."
Immediately, her face lit up. She ran across the field towards her friends. Trilochan sighed.
"Should I light the candles? Or switch on the light?" Koeli asked, bowing at the threshold of Trilochan's room. It was late in the evening, and he could sense that Bondita and Batuk were up to something. Right after accepting his condition, Bondita had gone to fetch Batuk from school. That was unusual of her. She must have had a plan. Trilochan had often admired her for that.
"No. Let it be. Where are the children?" He asked, leaning on the rocking chair.
"Somnath Dada is unpacking. He will stay for some time now. Since Choto Malik is coming home. Umm… Choto Malkin…" Koeli stopped at Trilochan's hand gesture. He knew she would lie. All of them, including the motherless children of his brother, whom he had raised like his own, were far more loyal to Bondita. That's what she meant by this house. Trilochan Roy Chowdhury closed his eyes, lost in his thoughts.
"I don't get why you two need to attend Debaditya's wedding. He is Munshi's son." Binoy snapped. "They work for us."
"He is a friend of mine." His firstborn spoke nonchalantly.
" Binoy, nobody is forcing you to go, let us." Trilochan had given his favourite nephew a reassuring smile. A few weeks later, he would turn eighteen and leave the country to study abroad. Something Trilochan was scared of. No doubt that the law degree from Kingston would make his career, but it would also mean he would be far away. Most of them didn't return. Trilochan was scared. So when he wished to attend his friend's wedding, Trilochan agreed. It would mean making a few more memories with him.
The wedding was at Krishna Nagar. Debaditya was Aniruddha's age, his first friend and playmate. He was already teaching students at home and giving many privileged ones home tuition. His father had chosen the soft-spoken well well-mannered Sampoorna, the daughter of a worker, for him. The girl looked poor. Trilochan figured that they were not well off and hence wanted to marry her that young. Nowadays, much to his detest, people weren't marrying that young. Trilochan remembered his mother used to say, the younger the bride, the more she is like wet clay. You can shape her to your will. The older she grows, the more difficult it becomes. He always believed so, too.
He was sitting in a corner of the ground where the mandap was made, and Aniruddha stood across the ground from him. Trilochan admired how his blood stood out among his friends, not only because of his pedigree but also his nature. Aniruddha adjusted his white dhoti a bit uncomfortably, rolling up the sleeves of his white Panjabi a bit in the heat. He wasn't used to staying away from electricity. The priest had declared this was the most auspicious time in a decade for a couple to be married.
"Marriages sealed at this hour last eternally." He spoke. "Against all odds." The older men agreed. The young ones looked amused. He eyed Aniruddha, shaking his head. Did he not believe in this?
"Where is the sindoor?" One of the women asked. Soon, the women gathered, looking for it.
"Someone bring the sindoor I have kept separately, in the plate indoors", the bride's mother called.
"Bondita?" She shouted across the ground. "Are you deaf, girl? Bring the sindoor."
That was the first time Trilochan saw a bubbly six or seven-year-old, in a home-sewed long skirt over a blouse and a dupatta, run across the ground with a plate in her hand. Her face was innocent. Her eyes were lively.
Aniruddha misheard his name being called out. He assumed Jetha Moshai was calling him from across the ground. He pushed through the crowd to reach him. The crowd suddenly parted, and he found himself flinging his arm in a reflex as someone approached him. The plate of vermilion slipped out of her hands and into the air. Everyone stared. Everyone gasped.
When the crowd parted, Trilochan saw Aniruddha stare at the girl in front of him, her head and face smeared in the vermilion from the plate that he had toppled over.
"Look what you have done!" Her tone of accusation suddenly broke the silence. "You spilt it all." She picked up the plate, narrowing her eyes at the stranger.
"I? Me?" Aniruddha suddenly looked agitated. "You ran into me."
"Did he just smear her hairline with sindoor?" Someone in the crowd spoke. "looks like it, " someone agreed. "If you ask me, that looks like a valid marriage to me." "Oh, I agree." A buzz went around the ground.
"Who is that?" Someone else asked.
"Bondita!" Her widowed mother felt all eyes on her child. She held her by the arm carefully enough not to let her white saree touch the red vermilion. "Come, let me clean you up. I apologise on her behalf." She looked scared.
"No, it's okay." Aniruddha noticed the red vermilion on his right fingers and brushed them off. "I guess I was not looking either." His eyes travelled to meet the disapproving glances of the girl.
Trilochan inhaled. For the first time in his life, he had seen Aniruddha admit a mistake, even if it was a small one. He was always stubborn like his father, especially in arguments.
"This looks like destiny is playing tricks on them, the most auspicious time in the decade and this happens. I need to have a look at their Kundlis." Trilochan heard the priest say. "Their paths must cross."
Trilochan was a man of faith. He would never let something like this go easily, calling it a mere accident. Before leaving the venue, he had enquired about the girl.
"Bondita Das, seven years old." Someone said she was not from their caste. But who could fight destiny? Trilochan couldn't.
" Her father passed away a few months back. Since then, they have been quite financially troubled." They are not well off like Roy Chowdhury. So what? He could teach her.
"Her father's family is not well-to-do. They won't give the poor widow and daughter a penny."
Trilochan had expressed a desire to meet her mother through Munshi.
"Whatever happened today was fate." He said as the widow stood in silence. "I promise you that the Roy Chowdhury Family will honour it. Your daughter will be the daughter-in-law of our family." Her mother's face lit up at his words. She was about to fall at his feet.
"Keep her safe till then." He had moved away and given her a coin. "Consider this a blessing."
"Does he know about this?" She asked unsurely.
"I will tell him when the time comes. I suggest we wait till then for her, too. I want them married before he leaves for London." He made her look up.
It was like destiny played a cruel joke on his plans. Trilochan had sat in his room for the next two days trying to figure out what to tell the father-son duo when the newspaper reported the abolishing of child marriage. Not only was it an illegal and criminal offence but also the age of consent was shifted to fifteen. Seven more years. It was too long. Trilochan decided it was best that his secret remained a secret till the right time. It meant Aniruddha left for London quite clueless.
A few weeks later, Trilochan was stunned to see a widow at his doorstep. She folded her hands and wept.
"I am Sumati Das. If you remember in Krishna Nagar…"
"How is Bondita?" She looked hopeful at his question.
"I am here because I have nowhere else to go. My in-laws threw me out. My brother refuses to take me in. I am leaving for Vrindavan." She sobbed. "But I didn't want to take Bondita to that harsh life. She is so young."
"I know I promised you she would be married soon, but…"
"The law." She sobbed, "I know. As soon as my in-laws heard of it, they threw us out, and my brother didn't take us in. They refused to feed and clothe her for so many more years." Trilochan now noticed the bullock cart at the gate, and the little girl staring at the mansion in awe. "I didn't know where else to go."
"Give her to me. She will be safe here. And we will groom her. Till he returns." Trilochan smiled at the lady. It solved a lot of issues. He could shape the clay Bondita was in. He could train her to be fit for Aniruddha. And he could still be a man of his word.
Soon Trilochan realised that Bondita was far from clay. If anything she was like glass. She could never be shaped without a diamond. The diamond in her case was a satisfying answer to her innumerable questions. Questions he never knew existed.
"Why do women wake up before men?"
"Why do women eat after men?"
"Why is cooking a feminine thing? Everyone needs food."
"How are all cooks male yet cooking for females?"
"Why do we pray to the goddess and think men are superior?"
Her questions infuriated him at first. Then he realized he didn't like those questions because he had no answers for the child. He had never asked these questions himself.
"You know, when someone asks too many questions, they get punished." He tried to scare her.
"What?" She giggled. "I never heard anyone asking questions being punished. Perhaps the punisher didn't know what to tell them." Her innocent words took Trilochan by surprise.
"Your questions have no answers." He shrugged.
"Every question has answers. Otherwise, they wouldn't come to the human mind, would they? If we don't know an answer, we shouldn't stop till we find it." She smiled.
"Who taught you that?" Trilochan asked, surprised.
"Nobody." She giggled. "I just made that up."
On one hand, Trilochan felt a string of care and affection attach him to this little girl. She knew how to pull it right. She became the woman of the Roy Chowdhury house. The woman the house longed for to make it home. His mornings started with her prayers as she insisted she could do what the priest did and decided to dismiss him. Trilochan gave in but made sure the priest was employed at the temple of Radha Krishna soon after. Binoy discussed the news with her. Somnath had found a sister and Batuk a friend. Her eagerness to know and interest in studying were unparalleled. The only other person he knew who perhaps loved to learn as much as Aniruddha.
"What is a Barristra?" Trilochan had raised his eyes from the book of accounts at her question. She was ten.
"Where did you learn that?" He smiled, amused.
"The locked room. Bhari Babu says I can't go in there. It belongs to some Baristra Babu." Trilochan nodded in agreement. Bondita frowned. She was intrigued. Who was this person she had never seen, but whose room was beyond her reach? Not knowing always bothered Bondita. She tried looking inside through the cracks and locks. She imagined what could be inside. But nobody gave her the keys.
"One peep. I promise." She would follow Bihari around. "What is so special about that room?"
"If it's not special, then why do you want to have a look?" Batuk asked.
"Because I want to make sure it isn't." Bondita smiled. "Urgh, Batuk. What do they teach you in school? You have gotten dumber."
Trilochan could scold her that day. But he didn't. Because he saw her interest in the unknown help him once. Every letter Aniruddha sent or every time Trilochan replied, he made sure Bondita read them, wrote them or even stored them neatly in a box. If that helped her curiosity it served Trilochan's ultimate purpose.
Now with Aniruddha coming home, Trilochan was worried. Would he recognise Bondita? Would he refuse such an alliance? Worse, if he already liked someone? Trilochan sat worried. The only hope he had was the priests who matched their Kundli.
"They are made for each other." They had said. "Be assured Zamindar Babu. We have never seen such a match."
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