My very special home stays. Part 2

We had just alighted from the busy Shealdah-Bongaon local and found our way out of the busier railway station and then into much busier and bustling market place.  I bought some sweets for my hostess and she bought some fish for her guest.  We were introduced a few days back and I was already in awe of the short little lady.

My hostess for the evening was Smt Ashima Mandal, a resident of Nischintapur village in the Bongaon district of West Bengal.  She belonged to a small farmer family, cultivated paddy, reared cows and pigs and had received formal schooling till 5^th std.

What was most inspiring about this unassuming lady was that she was also the Vice President of the district cooperative milk producers’ union, of 24 Parganas.  The District Magistrate being the Chairperson as per their bye-laws, this lady was therefore the highest in rank among the elected representatives.  And thus, I was so inspired by this lady.

I was there as a part of a Case Study assignment and thus decided to spend few days with some of the women belonging to the cooperative.

Outside the railway station, we hopped onto a Van Rickshaw.  Those who have been into the heart of rural Bengal will know what a van rickshaw is. The rickshaw moved like a snake in the bustling market lane and then in a few minutes we moved into a quieter and darker road, leading to the village. The air was cooler and now and the moon shone in the clear sky.

The lady introduced me to the rickshaw puller.  He was her husband who earned a meagre living by pulling the rickshaw. They had two sons who aspired to be posted well in some job in future.

I kept listening to her; she was one good conservationist, who neither narrated to me the stories of her woes nor did she boast of her achievements being the top most leader of the most progressive dairy cooperative in the state.  This was a cooperative which was totally governed by women at all the levels.  She seemed so humble that I almost doubted if she even knew what it meant to be in that position.

We reached their home in no time.  It was a humble mud house with two small rooms.  The first room served as a living and bed room for the boys as well as the kitchen. 

Ashima di found that the son had already cooked the rice.  She spoke in a bit of embarrassment, “Why did you cook that coarse rice?” And turned to me, explaining, “He is a child, he does not understand things.” Then she spoke to herself, “Let me cook the fine rice for didi”.  I assured her that she did not need to cook separately and waste the already cooked meal.

After freshening up, I was allotted my place for the evening.  A cosy bed in the inner room.  Leaving the family to have some chit chat of their own, I took out my diary and started jotting down the experiences.   

Post dinner, I had my chats with Ashima di.  I asked her whether she ever felt nervous when she represented the cooperative in the State Level Federation meetings where sitting next to her would be probably the Secretaries and Ministers.  She confidently replied that her experience with the animals was unmatched to anyone there and also, she said she would put forth her thoughts as per her exposure, understanding and experience.

That evening, as I heard about her story more and more, I was filled with respect and admiration for this lady who was married off at an early age to a person who had only a little piece of land as asset.  She toiled hard along with her husband and set up the little piggery business and two cows.  The house was destroyed in the flood and it would take more than their means to re build as it was before.

I spend the night in the inner room.  It was a winter night and the cold wind blew hard from the partially repaired roof.  The flood had damaged the roof completely and they had barely managed to put back some thatches on it and the opening left an avenue for the winter cold to gush in.  Shivering terribly, in spite of the quilt and my shawl, I spent the night half awake, only reassuring myself that I would remember this night forever.  And so I did I.  My writing about it after about thirteen years, is proof enough!  

The next morning, the winter sun shone brightly and lit up the small courtyard which Ashima di was polishing with cow dung.  I had my bath across the road, under an irrigation pump, as all the neighbourhood ladies did.

I helped her in the kitchen, chopping vegetables while listening to her stories and also watching how efficiently she managed the fuel, the oil and other resources.  That was a lesson of life-time about low fat cooking, I must say.

Post an early lunch, I was ready to leave and bid them good bye. I was totally in dilemma whether I should pay her for the hospitality or should I hand over some cash for having sweets, for the children.   Although I do not remember what I did, her request still rings in my ears, “Didi, I do not want anything except your prayers that my children live a life better than ours”.

Yes Ashima di, your hardships would reap the best benefits and your dreams will fulfil forever.  Waiting to meet her again and translate this little note for her.