My earliest days

I was born in April. My mother delivered me at home in the small corner room over looking the busy road in a two story delapididated building, in a Muslim dominated locality in Kolkata the erstwhile British capital of India
It was a happy home, sweet home till I gained consciousness of immortal gloom that enveloped us and still stalks me from all side.
My father was not even able to bear school fees of Rs. 10/- because of big family consisting of 12 heads that included dependent aunt, and cousins.

I sat outside the office of principal, Aapa sat beside me. She had prepared me for the interview; I don’t remember the face of father. I remember hazily that he made me read from a colorful alphabet book. He talked to me English and probably asked simple questions. After coming out of the office, I narrated to Aapa what principal made me read and what questions he asked. Probably she was not happy with several of my answers.

My supervisor mam who was of dark complexion, young, middle height wore thick red lipstick on her lips and smelled with scent, would roam the lawns while children played, to see if any of us spoke in our native tongue। She always carried a wooden ruler. If any of the children, was found not speaking in english, she would impose a fine of six paisa. She would take the student to principal office to note down particulars. She was a dedicated supervisor with a remarkable memory.
She would keep a sharp eye on students: on our dress, manners, cleanliness and behaviors, inside the classroom and outside of it.

It was my cousin sister who got me admitted to Welland Gold Smith School, at Bow Street and helped me oft and on with expenses. I remember the first day in the school vividly. The assembly in the chapel was in full swing. I went running on the stage, interrupting the proceedings and told ma'm in my native language i/e Urdu: : "Main toilet jaaunga" She made me repeat twice or thrice: "May I go to toilet".
Then there was an uncle the proprietor of an optical shop. Everyday he would distribute chocolates to students who passed by his shop.
Our dress was blue pant and yellow shirt. Bhaijan: Aquil adopted son of my aunt or Haqqa chaccha, Osman bhai , a servant who was rather a family member, would fetch me from the school at 2pm.The school was in fact 10-15 minutes walk from my home.

One day Aquil bhai on way from school told me that they have bought kids at home. I was overjoyed and began to twist and jump with joy while walking along the sidewalk.

They were three kids, white, brown and the other a mixture of brown and white. The brown one survived. After one year or so it was stolen. The goat was tied to a lamppost below. I was quite attached with the goat and felt very sad for many days.


Boys could only study up to class 2 in the school so she got my school changed when I passed class I and got me admitted to Ling Liang English High School- at Phears Lane। It was a missionary school। It was the values I imbibed in my missionary Schools made me misfit in the present society I think, I am seeking and searching the same values everywhere।



There was and endemic problem to keep me in the school because of fees repeated default in payment of fees and accumulation, dress, shoes, books exercise books and of course my poor performance and bad hand writing and poor health because of malnutrition. Some of my teachers thought that I was suffering from some disease and would avoid close contact.
Nevertheless my neighbors and relatives thought that I was intelligent and good.
So at last I was taken out of Ling Liang school mid-way and admitted to an Urdu medium school. I loved my previous school inspite of all the trouble and worry and wept. But I never insisted my parents to let me there, because I felt pity on them.