For the elderly gentleman, the ride
from the city to his old village was much smoother than he had
expected: first in the comfortable bus to the PURA (Providing
Urban-amenities in Rural Areas) headquarters and now in the little
electric van heading for the village.
In this second leg of the journey,
he was sitting at a vantage point by the side of the driver. And
there was a curiosity and deep interest visible in his face as he
kept looking at the passing sights.
The driver sounded very apologetic,
‘Very sorry that we had to wait for some time for more passengers;
usually, it is not a problem…’ he trailed off as the elderly
gentleman dismissed the thought and continued to look at the
greenery and the wonderful sights.
As the van reached a high ground, he
caught the first glimpse of the village. It was a remote village
visible at the edge of the reserved forest, and the green hills in
the background gave a golden glow, flooded as they were by the warm
rays of the rising sun.
‘Your vehicle is in very good
condition for something that has run 70,000 kilometers…’ the elderly
man said.
‘Oh, that’s our village mechanic’s
work,’ the driver replied. ‘He can repair virtually anything, and he
knows how to keep this beauty fit and fine. He has a certificate in
repairing automobiles… And you may be interested to know that he has
even come up with his own version of a solar car which can be driven
while you sit at his computer at home.’
The elderly man lifted his eyebrows.
‘That sounds pretty good,’ he said appreciatively.
As the elderly gentleman was saying
this, they passed by an old temple just outside the village, and a
pleasant nostalgic smile crept across his face.
‘It still is home, after all…’ the
visitor thought. It was twenty years now that he had left the
village to go out and earn money, fame and success. He had initially
kept up with the changes through the electronic connectivity system
that had been established, but then, he had eventually lost track.
This time around, he was seeing it all with his own eyes.
Looking at the driver, he said, ‘I
actually came to pick up some door fittings and iron grills which my
son had ordered a week ago…’
‘Ah yes, you cannot get more
personalized and beautiful pieces than these anywhere… You know,
Naseer’s workshop gets orders from abroad as well!’
‘You mean there is a market for this
iron stuff there too?’
‘Oh yes! When there is beauty, there
are always buyers…’
As the old man got off the vehicle,
he gave a stunned look. He could not believe his eyes.
The reaction amused the driver. He
said, ‘Naseer’s office is over there close to the temple of the
village deity; you won’t miss it.’
‘Are you sure this is my village?’
the elderly man asked looking around without expecting an answer.
The driver smiled, ‘See you then.
Hope I meet you on your way back.’ So saying, he revved up the
motor, waved and buzzed away toward the next village.
The old man kept looking around
without losing his sense of surprise. He could hardly believe his
eyes.
‘This can’t be the village I left
behind when I left for work,’ he kept saying to himself.
The houses were beautiful. They
looked prosperous; even the smallest houses now had either a tiled
or cement roof. The design of the houses and the vivid colors
expressed that the owners were connoisseurs. And there was an
artistic, constructive mind that was doing the design part… The
houses were built intelligently.
He did not have to walk much to get
to the temple, and once he reached there, the office was indeed easy
to spot.
‘This office could make a brigadier
proud,’ he mused out loud as he entered the open office door. The
display was exquisite, and it even had an exclusive display cabinet
for all the awards and trophies which Naseer had obviously won. Each
piece on the display had a touch of class in it—faces, animals,
symbols, names… You name it, and it was there. The beautiful part of
it was that each piece seemed to have been made with a lot of love
and care.
‘We make a piece or two extra in
some cases so that we can display them here,’ a young voice suddenly
said.
The old man turned around, as if
broken from a trance, to see a smart young lad in his mid-teens.
‘Oh! Sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to startle you. Can I help you?’
‘Yes, I was supposed to pick up my
stuff today. Is it ready?’
‘Ah yes! My father said you would
come. You can come and take a look at what we have done for you.’
They went to the workshop, and he
showed him the work. It was exquisite. Quite nearly the way he had
asked for it—lion heads for the handles and grill bits that were
designed like a creeper with leaves and flowers. The edges were
perfectly rounded off. The shine was perfect.
‘These are made of brass. Those
grills are iron,’ the boy said.
‘Yes, indeed,’ the elderly gentleman
said, still feeling the pieces with his hands.
The young lad, hitting something
like a sales pitch, said, ‘Once you put them in place, you will have
nothing to complain about. The measurements for the knobs and door
handles will be accurate to within a millimeter. We guarantee that.’
‘It’s beautiful. How do you manage
to design such stuff?’ the elderly gentleman asked.
‘Oh! We have a village full of
artists. You will get one or two in every household here. Some of
them work for us. They are asked to work on chalk, wax or clay. Some
artists also help in visualizing the description given by the
patrons in picture form, and then, these two-dimensional pictures
are converted to 3D molds. Converting those molds into metal is the
work of the workshop. We even have a spectrum of metals to choose
from,’ he said.
The money had already been paid
through the internet, and there was home delivery for his town as
well. All that was left was for Naseer to pack it up and have it
dispatched.
‘This stuff is good,’ the visitor
thought aloud. ‘It carries a feeling of grace and peace in it. There
are so many places where one can put these things. I should order
more.’
‘Oh! Thanks for the compliment,’ the
young lad smiled.
‘You are welcome,’ the elderly
gentleman said, and his attention turned to the important thing he
had come for. ‘Could you direct me to Krishna’s house?’ he asked the
young lad.
‘You mean the one who runs the music
center?’
‘Yes, he’s the one,’ the elderly man
nodded in reply.
The young lad said, ‘Sure, it’s
pretty close. Let me show you…’ and led the way.
As they walked along the street, the
young lad said, ‘I was telling you about our artists, right? You
will also get very good paintings for display in our village, if you
want them. In fact, I suggest you have your own portrait made; it
will not take you long, and the price is reasonable. The landscapes
are very beautiful too. If it is oil, it will cost you some money,
but watercolors will not cost much. I suggest you grab it. Your
descendants will make a lot of money from it,’ he said with a degree
of seriousness.
‘You paint too?’
‘No, not at all,’ he replied. ‘It is
not my cup of tea. I am more of a sports-lover. I prefer my games,
and we have a score to settle in the coming tournament.’ His voice
revealed resolve and determination as that thought crossed his mind.
Soon enough, the young lad led the way through the front door of a
house and into the courtyard, calling loudly, ‘Kaki! Hello! Anyone
home?’
A sweet voice responded, pretending
to admonish, ‘Why do you have to yell, Saleem? You’ll bring down the
roof.’
It was a pleasant young lady in her
early twenties who came to one of the doors comfortably dressed in a
blue-green salwar kameez with a pen and a book in her hand. Her mock
anger was a giveaway; and she stopped short on seeing the elderly
man. She greeted him with folded hands, and a questioning look went
toward the young lad.
‘Ah, Sital… Here, Uncle wants to see
your dad…’ he said quickly.
Immediately, a knowing coy smile
flashed across her face.
Saleem looked at her quizzically but
seemed in some hurry, ‘Bye… Got to go! Sital, take my advice. Give
up your idea of writing those silly poems. Can’t you think of
something useful to do?’
She responded with some pretend
anger, ‘Better than running around like mad men behind a ball for an
hour or even two hours.’
Saleem was not interested in hearing
what she had to say; he turned to the elderly man and asked, ‘May I
take your leave, Uncle?’
‘Yes, Saleem. Thank you very much.’
‘Oh, you are welcome any time. Bye,
Uncle! This girl will not improve,’ and he doubled away, making one
last face at Sital. She smiled in return.
Sital paid her respects to the
elderly gentleman by touching his feet, and the man blessed her by
saying, ‘May happiness and prosperity always be with you.’
‘He is a light in our lives,’ she
told the elderly gentleman. ‘Did he trouble you too much?’
The elderly man smiled back as he
shook his head for a no. ‘On the contrary, he was very helpful,’ he
said.
‘Do take a seat. I’ll get some
water,’ Sital offered. ‘Would you like to have some tea or some
breakfast?
‘Oh yes, sure,’ he replied.
‘Daddy is at the farm with bhayya.
Ma will soon be back from the temple. It’s about time.’ She then
asked, ‘How was the journey? How is Vijay’s grandma? And everyone
else?’
‘Ha, just fine. The journey was
great, and everyone is fine. I wanted so much to see you all. And
coming back here is so nostalgic. But I can hardly recognize this
place. The change is fantastic.’ Sital could only shrug her
shoulders, not knowing what to say.
‘What was all that about running
behind the ball?’ the visitor asked.
‘Oh, that! Just pulling his leg,’
she smiled. ‘The truth is that we make it a policy in our village to
encourage games. We believe it produces men of quality and
substance. And it improves the standards of health in the village
too.’
‘It is pretty much the same in the
Americas,’ the elderly man added. ‘They have a culture of
encouraging sports. I guess we are catching on now.’
She smiled and asked, ‘Will you be
waiting for the poetry session today?’
‘And what is that?’ the old man
asked in return.
‘Well, I think it had just started
when you went abroad. You must remember the teacher who used to
teach children Hindi and English…’
The old man’s face lit up with the
memory as he nodded in agreement, a glass of water in his hand.
Sital continued, ‘Well, he thought the best way to get people to
learn was to make them sit together and recite poetry and discuss
it. He started it as a weekly meet with school children and some
youth. The priest and the postman also used to participate. You
might know them, I think…’
The elderly man nodded in agreement.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘It started with
discussing the poetry of famous people. We went on to read and
discuss the great epics, some spiritual texts, personality
development book extracts and many more. It grew from strength to
strength. It has turned out very well now. Some outstanding poems
have been written by our own people. One of us managed to publish a
bestselling collection. Another one of us is popular in the stand-up
comedy circuit and has the nickname ‘Joker Poet’; it all started
here,’ she said in a matter-of-fact way.
‘So, what do you get from it?’ the
elderly gentleman asked.
‘I love it because it makes me look
at life in so many different ways. And it helps me participate in
what we call the timeless song of the poets,’ she said, her face
glowing with the thought.
‘Okay. Tell me about the houses.
They all look so pretty. This one feels so comfortable,’ the old man
said and moved to the door to take a closer look.
‘Ah, well, it is probably because a
lot of thought goes into it actually. We have one architect from our
village and three people in the next village who have developed a
reputation for designing excellent structures. Three of them are
diploma holders in civil engineering, and one of them has just
completed architectural engineering at the age of 42. They are in
some kind of network on the internet where they exchange ideas on
buildings, materials, design, air circulation, water cooling, well
maintenance, gas plants and so on. Their contacts are from across
the world. You name a thing, and they can build it. Generally, they
work in a team, and that brings good results, I think,’ she said,
with her eye on the intricate carvings on the window frame.
‘It is beautiful too,’ the old man
said, running his fingers through the designs, and he suddenly
changed the topic.
‘You speak such good English. How is
that?’
‘Oh, thank you,’ she said and added,
‘Practice makes one perfect. If you go around in the village, you
will see that most of the youngsters are good in three languages.
Among the seniors, most know two languages proficiently. The rest
will be fluent in Marathi but will be able to understand Hindi.
Unfortunately, they have to use sign language if they have to talk
to someone like Unni Uncle.’
She paused for a moment and then
said, ‘I also tried to learn French, but I could not make progress
because the teacher could not continue the course. But I am working
on it. Ravi Uncle knows seven languages. Not French though,
unfortunately.’
‘Ravi?’ the elderly gentleman asked.
‘He is the supervisor at the food
processing unit of the village,’ she replied. ‘He is supposed to be
very good at five of the languages, but he writes poetry only in
Marathi. He also directs plays in his spare time…’ As she was saying
it, her mother walked in through the front door.
Apparently delighted to see the
elderly man, she exclaimed, ‘Oh! America Uncle!’ With a broad grin,
she said, ‘I hope you had nice travel’ as she paid her respects by
touching his feet.
‘Had a nice journey,’ her daughter
corrected.
‘A nice journey?’ she asked the
gentleman, smiling, and he nodded.
‘Yes, it was very comfortable.’
‘So, you are working on your
English?’ the visitor asked, and she nodded in agreement.
‘Just a wish,’ she said.
Soon, the two of them shifted into
comfortable Marathi and began exchanging notes of the years that had
passed by. Meanwhile, Sital went into the kitchen to take care of
breakfast. All she had to do was warm it up in the microwave oven,
and soon, the three of them were done with their breakfast.
‘Sital, tell me… Is the elderly
school teacher still here in the village?’
‘Yes, indeed. Would you like to go
and see him?’
‘Oh, that would be great. Can you
take me there?’
Sital looked at her mother.
‘Okay, go along. Take him there, but
bring him back in time for lunch. I’ll just phone to tell the
teacher that you are coming,’ her mother said. ‘And remember to take
grandpa through Unni Uncle’s laboratory,’ she added.
They set out and reached the
laboratory soon enough. But it was latched shut.
‘I guess he has gone out to the
hills,’ Sital said as she opened the gate to let herself in.
She explained, ‘Unni Uncle retired
from ISRO as a scientist and decided to set up a small research lab
in the village. It was his dream project. He wanted to work on
biotechnology and its contribution to forest upkeep. It began as a
shed he set up here, and he used to travel up and down from the PURA
headquarters where he used to stay. Then, the children and some
women in the village got involved in his research activities. Then,
the village school and even the science college at our PURA
headquarters started coming here to do projects. Now, it is a
wonderful resource.’
‘But how did this lab get built up
like this?’
‘Well, that is a long story,
actually. Initially, no one cared much, and Unni Uncle himself was
only interested in having a piece of land and access to the forests.
He used to hire one or two people in the village, and so, the people
of the village let him be. But a change came when the children got
involved with him… Or maybe the other way around… He would make us
ask all sorts of questions about science, and he would actually show
us how things worked. We all used to have a great time.’
‘I still remember the day he showed
us a fountain with a soft drink and mint chocolate. But it was a
waste of a good soft drink. Then, he showed us how to make a rocket.
Amit nearly burned down his own house, and Unni Uncle had to hear a
lot from Amit’s daddy. Luckily, Unni Uncle knows little Marathi. So,
it all ended up very funny,’ she said, giving an amused smile.
‘What does your uncle do here?’ the
elderly man asked.
‘The biggest thing he did for us was
the fruit extract from the berries that were picked up in the
forest. He showed us how to extract the juice and convert it into
syrup and package it. It became a raging success. After that, money
flowed into the village. It is cited as one of the reasons the
village developed so much. Then, as we children grew, he got many of
us involved in serious experiments. We even helped Uncle set up this
modern lab, and now, he has a name at an international level.’
‘So, you all are paid for your
work?’
‘Most of us volunteer when he asks
for help because we understand the value of what he has done and
still continues to do. This farm that you see has the rarest of
herbs, and most of them have medicinal value. We help him grow it.
It is taken up to the hills, and the hill people plant it
everywhere. So, if you go up the hills, it is full of it in small
patches and in natural settings. It is systematically harvested, and
that forms the main base of income for the hill people. The hill
people give us the forest produce for processing and marketing. So,
it comes as a complete cycle. This arrangement is great, and his
efforts are at the heart of it.’
‘That is not all,’ she went on. ‘He
has helped two of the children who used to work with him pick up
their PhDs. As for the farmers in our village, he works in
partnership with them in their farms. Together, they try out new
things, manures, pesticides, seeds… If you noticed as we entered the
village, multi-level cropping is taking place in those farms by the
side of the old temple. Scientists from a research center in Brazil
came to see it last January. And you might know, many of the farmers
have at least a diploma in farming. And all of them have done up to
the C-level certificate course…’
‘Certificate course?’
‘Yes, in farming technology. Ah,
there we are! Do you recognize that person standing next to that
jeep?’ Sital asked.
‘Oh, yes! You cannot miss him, can
you?’ the elderly man smiled.
As they approached him, a broad grin
of recognition came across the teacher’s face. It was quite
weathered with age, but the gracefulness of his happy years was
visible on him. He had lost none of his old charm. The elderly
gentleman greeted the teacher with folded hands, a broad smile and a
mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The teacher greeted him happily,
clasping the folded palms of the visitor in his own.
‘My dear friend, what a delightful
surprise!’ the teacher said
Sital could literally feel the vibes
of their delightful meeting. The excitement in the air was to remain
for a long time after that. The young lady paid her respects to the
teacher. And the teacher said to them, ‘Come, let’s go inside.’
Addressing the elderly visitor, he
added, ‘Like to have something? The mango season has left us with
the choicest of juices and sweets this time. It’s been a plentiful
harvest.’
‘Grandpa just had breakfast; I don’t
think he will have anything. Will you?’ she asked the elderly
gentleman.
He shook his head for a no, and she
offered, ‘I’ll get some water for you two.’
‘Okay, Sital. Bring some of those
sweets also—just in case—and pull a chair for yourself. Ah, and the
book on French that I promised you is on the reading table. Don’t
ask how I managed to get it! It’s borrowed for your use.’
Sital disappeared into the house
with a squeal of delight while the two of them made their way to the
two garden chairs kept in the shade of the huge mango tree.
‘You all have achieved a miracle
here,’ was the first thing the elderly gentleman could say.
The teacher replied, ‘Come on! You
know that even you are responsible for this. The money you had sent
initially, when I asked for it, made a huge difference.’
‘No, no! That was hardly anything,’
the visitor protested.
‘No, young man. It mattered a lot
when we started. We literally had no financial strength at that
time. It was not that we were not happy; happiness is something that
is within each of us. But the way we were living was not the best we
could be.’
‘Yes, indeed. I vividly remember
this place from that time,’ the elderly visitor said looking at some
kittens playing at a distance. ‘In the summer, we had to walk three
kilometers to get drinking water and another three back. Then, there
was that twice-a-day bus which used to come to the next village—once
in the morning and once in the evening.
But there were none to our
village. The lands were barren except for a few trees here and
there. And then, there were the dry rain-fed farms. We had the Dalit
shanties on that side…’ he said, pointing out at what could now
easily be a part of a suburb.
‘There was that liquor den beyond
that other hillock as well,’ he said, turning toward the little
hills.
‘The slopes of the hills were barren
except for one odd bush here and there and some grass. We would have
to get fuel wood from the forest—or whatever you could call that
barren place—and there would be such trouble over it. There was the
problem of single-meal families, literally living on the edge of
survival. To study beyond tenth standard, one had to travel twelve
kilometers. There were only two TVs in the entire village. As for
electricity, the poles were there and the wires were there, but
there was hardly any power supply. Then, there were those endless
quarrels with the fair price shop over the availability of grain and
kerosene. And do you remember how we lost my niece and her child
because we could not take her to the nursing home in time? Three
hours by cart… She could not have made it. And now, look at this!
How did you turn it all around?’
The teacher was apparently
transported into the past, and he looked to be in a reverie when he
thoughtfully said, ‘One lesson I learned in this entire process is
that you should never underestimate the power of a team.’
As he was saying this, Sital walked
toward them balancing a tray on one hand with some water and sweets
on it and a chair on which she had placed a little book in the
other. They helped her place the tray on a small garden stool and
moved their chairs to make place for her in the shade, and she
adjusted her chair into place.
‘Thank you, young lady. Grandpa has
been telling us how this place was when he left,’ the teacher said
as he offered some sweets to the visitor.
‘I heard that things were very
difficult then,’ Sital said
He smiled and continued, ‘So, as I
was saying, it all began to happen when everything fell into place.
We had this village which had the human resources of nearly 2000
people in all, but we had nothing to put them together and work at
something. Then, by sheer coincidence, some persons reached here.
Naseer was invited here by his friend Krishna when there was trouble
in his home state.’
‘You mean Sital’s father?’ the
elderly gentleman asked.
‘Yes, our Krishna,’ he said and then
explained. ‘Naseer had a manufacturing unit which was destroyed in a
riot. He came here for some time to be in a quiet environment, but
he eventually settled down here. It was he who taught all of us what
we know about manufacturing, business and marketing; his foresight
and vision were a great asset. Then, there was Unni, an encyclopedia
of knowledge. Then, of course, we have the village priest; he knows
when to say something, what to say and how to say it. He was able to
make people listen and do what they were expected to do.
Also important at that time was the
announcement by the government that they were going to set up PURAs.
And finally, there were numerous government schemes about which I
knew quite a lot, and I had some students in the government who kept
me informed about what I could bring for the village. We had the
money you sent. We got some more from donors and NGOs, and we pooled
in some money from our savings. When all this came together, things
just began to happen.
I got my hand on some literature on
PURA. I spoke to several other teachers and then to some sarpanches.
When we spoke to the Block Development Officer, he just gave us a
vague idea that if there were to be a PURA, then eighteen
neighboring villages would form our unit. He gave us the list of
those eighteen villages. We had a meeting of all these sarpanches,
and then, we started making plans. There was a need for facilities
which one or two villages could not afford by themselves, so we
started sharing. While the funds for schools were diverted to three
different schools in these eighteen villages, we set up hospitals in
four others and a special hospital in the PURA headquarters. Then,
as if by magic, a lot of facilities started being set up by private
commercial players all over. The government gave us roads and
electronic connectivity. Our village eventually got a school. For
the nursing home, we need to go to the next village, but we have a
health worker with us.’
‘Remarkable, indeed,’ the elderly
gentleman said. ‘But you still have not told me how everyone
cooperated in the effort.’
The teacher said, ‘Oh that… It all
started when the water problem reached its peak, and we had to
ration the drinking water that season. There was a fight that night…
But ultimately, the outcome was good. One of Unni’s friends, an
expert in water resources, was visiting him that day. To date, Unni
says it was just a coincidence that he was in the village, but we
don’t think so. He was from Sangli. He knew Marathi well, and
apparently, he knew this whole business about water. When he spoke
to the villagers, it was like magic. They sat and listened to him
spell-bound. The very next day, we started digging. It was nice to
watch. Even Sital here went up that day. She was probably in her
second or third standard, I think, and she dug her own little water
bund.’
‘Yes, Grandpa. I remember; it was so
much fun,’ Sital said.
‘Well, I hope it was fun for the
others too,’ the teacher replied.
‘It was like a picnic,’ she said,
smiling.
The teacher continued, ‘That event
made a great difference; after that, we went up once a week for six
weeks and did voluntary work, and the energy did not sag for quite
some time. Two thousand people up on the hills. Mind you. If they
put their minds to it, they could have moved the hill; these bunds
were small things. The very next summer, our wells did not dry up.
That was a stroke of luck because it is difficult to get results so
fast. Anyway, we hit a high note when two or three years after that,
people started coming to our village to collect drinking water;
there was no looking back after that. Three years after when Unni’s
friend had given the talk, the villagers started pestering Unni to
call him once again. Unni’s friend knew more than just about water
conservation. We got all kinds of knowledge and inspiration from
him, and then, it slowly took off. We gradually phased out firewood
and used alternate sources of energy; the direct result was that
trees started appearing on the hills. We forced all the children to
school; we arranged for work and livelihood for everyone. We kept
sending one person or the other from the village for some training
or the other. Soon, we had trained mechanics, builders, artists,
sportsmen, farmers, dairy specialists, poultry specialists… You ask
for it, we have them. Then, Unni and the hill people happened…’
‘Sital told me about that…’ the
visitor said.
And the teacher continued, ‘And
after that, we have never looked back. Anyway, I should tell you
that a lot of deliberate planning went into it. There were
committees responsible for even planning how to balance the imports
and exports of the village. We wanted a balance so that profits were
generated for the village and its members too because things would
not work out otherwise. We have come a long way,’ he smiled.
‘I think such places are called
Edens,’ the visitor offered.
The discussion veered toward his
work, his journeys in America and finally his settling down in India
with his son in the town.
‘So, one of the reasons I came here
was to look for a match for my grandson Vijay,’ he said looking at
Sital, smiling mischievously.
Sital was a picture of pretend
disinterestedness, ‘Why would he want to marry a village girl like
me?’ she said leafing through the French book in her hand without
any purpose.
‘Are you serious?’ the elderly man
asked. ‘I am worried about the other way around.’
Sital raised her eyebrows in
surprise.
The elderly man said, ‘You have all
the best amenities that a city can offer within twenty kilometers
from your house. You have this space for playgrounds. You have
generous space to build your homes. Your education in the three R’s
and in the spiritual and social dimensions of life are not in any
way wanting. You even have a French book in your hand. What else do
you want? If you are on the lookout for universities or professional
colleges for your children, there is of course a need to stay away
from home. But even people in the city have to do that.
And in the city, you could even end
up traveling for an hour just to reach your work place or to get to
the college. To give to children all that the city affords, most of
the time, both the mother and father have to work at their
respective jobs in a continuous cycle from dawn to dusk. And in such
cases, the pressure on the woman is really very high. I agree there
is work here in the villages too, but it is more balanced, and the
responsibilities are better shared. And it is done in an environment
that agrees with our traditions. Moreover, this village is your
extended family. You can walk into anyone’s house; everyone
participates in all occasions in peoples’ lives. You can sit and
write poetry in the quiet forest or in the farms, and here, you can
even drink water from that fresh stream…
Now, if you were to go to the city,
99% of the people who pass by you will be strangers. You will gain
some kind of freedom and anonymity, but you will lose the warmth of
these people and the nourishing touch of a closed society. I am not
saying that you won’t get true and good friends there, but it is a
different life. And in any case, if you really want to get to the
city, I took less than an hour to reach this place. So, even the
city is not beyond your reach from here.’
Sital shrugged her shoulders and
smiled.
The teacher was reassuring, ‘Don’t
worry about her. She will adjust; this lady is tough. Or there is
another great idea; why don’t you all shift somewhere here in the
meantime?’ he said
And as Sital blushed, the elderly
gentleman replied, ‘That is a possibility I have started to think
about rather seriously now. This place is a real nursery of life.’
Soon enough, all three of them got
up to head back to Sital’s home for lunch. As they were getting
ready to go, the elderly man gave voice to something that had been
at the back of his mind, ‘I don’t see many people around.’
‘Oh that,’ the teacher said. ‘It is
a holiday, and there is a fair going on in the next village. The
final match of the cricket tournament is happening today, and our
boys are playing. Everyone is out to cheer them on.’
‘What about you?’ the elderly man
asked.
‘Well, we will move after lunch.
Krishna will be taking us in his vehicle. You are coming along,’ the
teacher said firmly without offering him a choice.
‘Will you be coming too, Sital?’ the
elderly gentleman asked.
She apologetically replied, ‘No,
Grandpa. I will skip. I have some work to do for today’s poetry
session. But I plan to watch what I can of the match on cable TV.’
The teacher bolted his door shut and
informed his neighbor of his departure. The three of them then set
course for Sital’s home, walking in the shade of the huge trees.
‘You must have had good support from
the politicians too,’ the visitor said.
‘Well, yes and no,’ the teacher
replied and went on to explain. ‘Initially, they were the biggest
hurdles for us. They would come and feed on their vote banks. They
would say and do things such that various groups in the village
sincerely believed that the others were enemies. But you know that
saying about fooling people… Sital, what is that?’
‘Wolf, wolf…?’ she asked.
‘Ah, that too. But I was mentioning
another… You can fool all people for some time, you can fool some
people all the time…’ And Sital joined in a chorus, ‘But you can’t
fool all people all the time.’ And they smiled at each other.
The teacher continued, ‘Eventually,
wisdom brought light on the people that these politicians came only
when elections came. They said they would do all sorts of things but
did nothing really substantial. Well, how much could you expect them
to do for just a few votes? They would get all of us excited before
the polling, and after it, they would disappear until the next
elections were around the corner. But things began to change when we
learned to stick together.
When the change came, everyone
accepted the situation that they were in and did not blame anyone
else for it. Then, we all started looking ahead together. Ten years
from then, those shanties disappeared, and you can see what remains
of it now.’
The elderly gentleman kept his eyes
fixed on the houses as he listened to the teacher and said, ‘Indeed,
it is a most amazing transformation. I just could not believe it
when I saw it for the first time.’
‘And Grandpa, I told you about two
of them who have done their PhDs, right? That two-storied house
painted in blue and white belongs to one of them.’
‘Ah, Rahul.’ The teacher added, ‘You
won’t believe it… He took a vow that he would take admissions only
in the general merit category. He got many scholarships but never
took even a single reservation seat. Now, he holds an Associate
Professor’s post at the university on the strength of his own merit.
We are all delighted for him, and he is highly respected for his
achievements. No one can even say that he is from the same group who
about twenty odd years back were scavenging, had one meal a day and
did not know what it was to take a proper bath. That is why I say
that that day was like magic when Unni’s friend spoke to us. Once we
became a team, once we realized that we were all trying to do some
good to each other by helping each other, once we saw that we were
really trying to get livelihoods for all of us in the village,
things slowly changed. The priest was a great help in this.’
‘And the politicians?’ the elderly
man asked.
‘Once we got together, we started to
fool all the politicians. Then, the politicians became wise. They
realized that if they helped the village as a whole, they would get
votes. They then did exactly that. After that, it has been a good
partnership with the politicians, and they have good connections. A
lot of good has been done through them, and we are thankful to them.
But they cannot fool us now, not by dividing us.
We have our differences, but we have
evolved ways of facing such situations by trying to focus on the
solution rather than the problem. We sort things out among
ourselves. We may even fight among ourselves, but when we deal with
outsiders, we remain united. That is our strength.’
Soon, they reached Sital’s home and
had a delightful lunch with the entire family. And then, things
happened according to plan…
The day was hectic indeed. Lunch was
followed by the excitement of the cricket match. The elderly
gentleman had not played much of the game, but the electric
atmosphere got the better even of him. Then, there were
celebrations. Dinner was over only by 9:00 PM, but they decided to
hold the poetry session anyway. It was a great experience. Folk
songs, some jokes, poetry and special of all was the little surprise
Sital had in store. She had a poem titled ‘Starry eyes’, and it was
a little embarrassing for him since he was the hero of the poem. The
poem got the wildest applause, and one could not make out whether it
was for the hero or for the writer. But he noticed that the
villagers saw him in a different light after the poem.
He called up home a little later,
and as he spoke to Vijay, he said, ‘You know, Vijay. I know for sure
that I am at home. Not one of my blood is around me, and I am still
at home!’
An hour or so later, as he lay in
bed at the teacher’s house, looking at the stars through the
first-floor window, a feeling of great delight and gratitude
engulfed him.
‘This is splendid,’ he thought.
‘This is a full life; this village has finally arrived at Mahatma
Gandhi’s dream. Vijay would have to do a lot to give this girl a
home and community as beautiful as this in his city.’