One Village Girl

Some stories go unnoticed. Isn’t it? Either it didn’t progress enough to be called a story or we failed to realise that there is a possibility of story, hence we didn’t make any attempts. In any case, story does progress but the difference is that you may not be a part of it.

The people residing in the village have a special regard for the students or even families who stay in town or city. If you somehow manage to get abroad, your stature increases to the manifold. The village has nothing much to offer when it comes to youth except agriculture. Hence, there is a common notion among the villagers that the youth should be immediately sent away to seek their fate, which is destined otherwise. Besides, I feel sorry for the youth residing in the village as the beautiful girls are often taken by the non-resident villagers. The parents also place their confidence in such guys, whatever the reason be!

After getting admission to a college in Delhi University, visiting home became a rarity and even more rare was visiting my villages. I met Jaanki after a long time on one of my visits to my hometown during the 3rd year of my Bachelor’s semester breaks. Contrary to what I could recall of our last meeting, she has grown young and beautiful. Her face was devoid of any kind of cosmetics, hence, glowed naturally. Her hair, all black and dense, first went back to her back and then was left to hang loose to the side of her waist. Her eyes, brown in colour, had become more playful than ever. Her cheeks had acquired some fat which suited perfectly to her face. The ethnic attire on her healthy body gave her a charming look. We all admire the ‘beauty-ies’ residing in urban areas but rural areas are no less. The only difference is that they have to live under restrictions i.e. they can’t dress the way they want, they rarely go to the parlour (I wonder if rural areas have any), have meagre access to fashions, and fashionable clothing thus missing the dressing sense. However, there is also another perspective of looking at it. Villages are still aloof from the impact of westernization.

I wish I could say; Jaanki and I had been childhood friends only if such kind of friendship existed in rural areas. It’s wise to admit (not wanna hurt the sentiments of villagers) that we had known each other since childhood. We might have played together while in childhood as I’ve a couple of photographs with her but I couldn’t recall any significant event thereafter. She had been my closest neighbour. If seen, the term ‘neighbour’ isn’t justified when used in the context of a village as the door of one’s house isn’t confined to one’s only. Rather, it extends to the whole village. There are no restrictions on entering anyone’s house. Everyone knows you in the name of your parents or grandparents, hence ready to greet you with a smiling face. Also, since the village used to be my destination only during the summer vacation or other holidays, my interaction with Janki had been limited throughout the school days. The gap between us kept increasing as we grew up. The foremost was, that I shifted to a town with my family for studies since my childhood whereas she stayed in the village. The second was societal restrictions which a girl is expected to abide by, with the onset of puberty. It also included not talking much to a boy of the same age group. The third was the embarrassment you and your family had to face when found in public and the unavailability of private space. The only time we used to interact a little was when she used to come to my house to give me something or meet my sister (villages are a great centre for the barter system), that too when sent by her parents. Since the town I shifted in and the school I studied in weren’t very different, I was also a bit shy to initiate a talk with her. Though the school was one of the English medium, there were only namesake implementations of co-education. A girl and a boy talking to each other were considered taboo, which often became a topic of mockery/teasing for fellow students and sometimes, teachers too. The other reason could be the sense of superiority I might have developed while staying in the city. Also, at such times, you can neither talk much in front of the family nor you can share a secluded space because both are considered equally dangerous in the eyes of the villagers.

It’s only with college life, I grew comfortable talking to people irrespective of their sexes.

My reverie was broken when she pinched and asked me the whereabouts of my sister. As usual, she came to meet my sister. The news of our arrival might have reached the neighbours.

“Usko to janti hi ho, ghum rhi hogi aas-pados me“, I said returning to my senses.

“Aur tor dhyan kahan halau“, she said in magahi, which is our regional language.

“Pehchan nhi paye hum tumko ek waqt ke liye” I said, grinning.

“Haan, pehchanoge kaise? Sehar jake bhool jo gaye ho”, she said chuckling and switching to Hindi.

“You’ve grown beautiful, Janki”, I didn’t plan to say it but it came out of my mouth involuntarily.

“Accha! angrez babu. Itna angrezi hamro aata hai“, she said mixing regional with Hindi.

“Are nhi nhi! Galti se nikal gelau. Kuch aur kahi thaliau. Padhai kaisan chali thau?”, I immediately changed the topic and switched to magahi to make her more comfortable.

“Ab tumlog jaisa hamara zindagi kahan. Economics se BA karliu he yahi degree college se wahi bahut hai”, she said handing over the sweets she brought from home”

“Are Economics se BA to bohot acchi baat hai. MA me admission leke NET ka tyari kro”, I suggested.

“Humse na hoga“, she said and added, “Tumhara padhai aur hamara padhai me bahut difference hai. Yaha ghar ka kam, parivar ka khayal rakhna, na koi coaching na tuition aur ab to Papa shaadi ka bhi soch rhe hain”

“Whaaaaattt? Kyyaaaa? Shaadi?” I exclaimed.

The box of sweets which she gave me was about to fall but I managed to get hold of it anyhow.

“Yahi hamar kismat me hau aur sirf hamar na, jitna log yaha hau sab ke. Tumhari sister yaha se nikli to dekho kuch ban gayi. Baaki hum sab tabhi niklenge jab hamara future khatm ho chuka hoga”, she said and laughed to ease the situation.

This line hit me hard. I felt helpless. Miserable. Only if I could do anything for her. I felt caught, choked by something. She was right.

“Yaar agar kuch help kar saku to btana. Study materials wagerah. And tum online padh sakti ho phone se”, I tried to give her some hope.

“kya re..tu bhi padhai ka baat leke baith gaya. Aaj hamra hi golgappa party hau. Yahi kahne aaye the. Samay se chale aana aur tumhara nakhda nhi chalega”, she said as if scolding.

She knew how shy I was earlier. On the pretext of visiting the other’s house, I often used to make many excuses.

“Bilkul aayenge. Ab ham bacche nhi rhe”, I said, trying hard to smile.

With that, she went away but left me in her thoughts. I pondered over the range of possibilities to take her out of this situation but each one was linked to her and her parents. She had to convince them to give her more time so that she could build her career. I wished to do on her behalf but my unnecessary interruption might annoy them. My own achievement was null. You may be greeted by comments such as jyada padh likh liya hai and alike. Moreover, village parents/guardians are staunch traditionalists. They’re driven by belief rather than logic. I’ve tried to advise one of my relatives to spend a part of the money they give in dowry on a girl’s higher education so that they can take jobs and become self-dependent. “That doesn’t make any difference. Ultimately you end up paying a dowry no matter how educated your girl is”, he said. It was only that day, I realised how hard it is to reform the society which is caught in these stigmas. I had a couple of more experiences like this, hence, I gave up ‘convincing’ the older generation. Perhaps, the present/younger generation would be better.

The next morning I had to leave for the city. Jaanki came to my house to see me off. She brought my favourite dish which she prepared herself in the morning. I was a bit reluctant to accept it in front of everyone but I did. In return, I gave her Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, which I was carrying since it was in my 3rd year syllabus. I could sense her growing emotional. “Ab kab aaoge”, she asked in a hardly audible tone while her eyes failed to maintain eye contact. I know she was hiding something else. Perhaps, her watery eyes.

“Jab tum bula lo”, I said giggling to lighten the situation.

A month later, I received a card, an invitation to attend her wedding!!

(to be continued)

©Shashank