Days that were made better

The 5 year old was visibly confused. Whether to sit precariously balanced on the barely dry and mostly wet underside? Or to remain standing to avoid direct skin contact with the underclothes, which by then, were miserably soiled beneath.  Either way she was uncomfortable.  Either way, she drew undue attention of the other occupants of the room.

The ‘she’ is actually me…….and this happened some 35 years ago. I was appearing for the entrance test in a school seeking admission in standard I. I was suffering from fecal incontinence.  No one in my family was aware of my condition, till I emerged from the school room smelling pungent and feeling sick, very sick.

I could not qualify the entrance exam and was denied admission in the school, which most of the other known kids, including my dada (elder brother) were studying.

Dada was cute faced, sharp and quick. I was dull, reticent, quiet, tremendously lacking in confidence and slow. Be it the routine morning chores at home or playing with building blocks in the kindergarten, I took a tad more time than my fellow mates to complete any said task.

I grew up in Rourkela, a township, peacefully settled at the foot of the hills in Sundergarh District of Orissa (currently Odhisha).  My baba (father) worked in the Rourkela Steel Plant while my mother was a homemaker. My dada was three years elder to me.  Together, we made a happy family. 

Years later, when I look back, I realize that it was neither the beautifully planned township that made us happy.  Nor was it money that bought happiness since we seldom had any. It was the bond nurtured by unconditional love of my ma-baba (parents) that gifted me a childhood full of memories and act as an anchor during turbulent times.

The school that had denied admission to me, was under the administration of the Steel Plant (where my baba was employed). It provided good quality education at a subsidized rate for the children of its employees.  My baba was now left with two choices for my schooling.  Either get me enrolled in the government run schools providing free but sub standard education or knock the doors of private schools, where the fees were on the higher side.

Given the then family liabilities, Baba preferred the first option and I was about to be sent to the nearest government school. But my ma was adamant.  She convinced my Baba to plan the finances in a way so that I attend a school imparting a level of education that was at par with the school of the steel city. She was stubborn and hell bent upon to ensure that the quality of education is not compromised with, for any one of her children.

My ma has a very modest educational background.  She had to forego her studies after Class X to take care of the younger siblings. She is an excellent homemaker, intelligent in making choices and swift in taking decisions.  She is extremely skillful, be it in handicrafts or in the kitchen.  And I know for sure that had it not been for her, I would have been nowhere by now.

Several years later, after completing my graduation from Sir Asutosh Mukherjee College, Kolkata, I went to Delhi to study in the Delhi School of Social Work, Delhi University (1995-97). During my stay in Delhi, an office representative from my former college in Kolkata, visited my house to communicate the news of my felicitation as the college topper for my graduation batch. As any other parents, mine were also filled with pride but their happiness knew no bounds when on the day of the college programme my father went up the dais to accept the honour on my behalf.

(Now, even after thirteen years of marriage, in times of crises faced while living in a joint family, in a culture diametrically different from mine, juggling a job and mis-managed home while parenting two children, those days of childhood serve as a guiding star and I find the solace and hope in touring them. Those days were ‘made’ happy despite all odds).