It seemed as if the room had inherited a tawny darkness from
the time immemorial and had decorated itself eternal with its immaculate
essence. Even the long stretch of corridor leading to that room was always
filled with darkness. An uncanny silence
all around would make the place more spooky and mysterious.
The old dilapidated railway-quarters stood under a giant
banyan tree. It was really hard to say which of the two----the quarters or the
tree---- came up the first. They had the concomitant existence, it seemed, and
after accompanying each other for a very long time, they might conk out anytime
at a tardigrade blow of wind. The prickly sun could hardly make its way through
the dense cover of the tree. The natural phenomenon of day and night had only a
limited impact in diluting or adding to the dose of darkness which the occupier
of the house Miss Rachna Mam was fond of and had fixed-up for herself.
We
had no idea why Rachna mam was so fond of darkness, and we never bothered to
ask her the reason. It always proved to be a bugbear for all of us who were the
sole visitors of mam in her lonely room. We were more frequent in summer than
in any other season.
In summer, we had the morning classes from 8
A.M. and by 12 P.M.,the classes were used to be over. The long quiet afternoon
gave us ample time to play as well as finish our homework. Even after taking a
nap, we were left with copious amount of time. This used to set us towards our
beloved mam’s residence. I hazily remember the serene afternoon when I used to
sneak out of my home surreptitiously amid a loud noise of snort clearly heard
from my adjoining room.
I seldom
saw Rachna mam lying on her bed. She stretched out herself in a big arm-chair
made of some polished wooden cane. She would sit in front of television and
appear as torpid as the lonely afternoon itself. The mam had the strange habit
of watching television in mute mode. This was perhaps to avoid the jarring
noise which this mechanical instrument was capable of making. The mam never
welcomed us or resented our arrival. We had the group of six or seven children
who loved to drop in there almost regularly.
On entering her dark room, we would silently
sit on the floor in a raw with our back relaxed on a stiff wall behind. The mam
would hardly talk to us during those hours. We also followed the rule and used
to remain hushed-off. Our meditative silence during those hours was surprisingly
in contrast with the behaviour of children of our age. We were barely five or
six years old then. Generally, at this age, children are noisy, boisterous and unmanageable.
We were also so and, in fact, even more, but mam’s serene composure had a
contagious magical effect on all of us. We really used to enjoy the calm
atmosphere of her stygian accommodation. We had developed a tacit understanding
with Rachna mam who rarely needed to dictate terms to us. we were like some
angles who descended there to lessen the encumbrance, anguish and twinge of her
loneliness, though she never acknowledged this----- either verbally or through
her gesture.
After
spending a couple of hours together without speaking anything, mam would
suddenly jump off the chair and slip into her kitchen to prepare tea. She would
come with tea and mudhi, distribute among us and sat with us on the floor with
a cup of tea in her hand. This gave us a sense of belonging and a sense of
Rachna mam being our own. While watering mignonette surrounding her balcony in
the evening, she would always tell,” beta
in paudho me bhi jaan hote hai, ye bhi humari hi tarah hote hai”. Her words
sounded more philosophical and less scientific.
Rachna mam was really a sensible lady. She was in her late
30’s. she was tall, plump and voguish. She had a rare dexterity of adorning
herself with the most fashionable attire and expensive cosmetics. Togged out in
her silk saree with matching earrings, armlet, nail-polish and high-heeled
slipper, Rachna mam looked elegant, pretty, luscious and gracious. I vividly
remember her going out in sun holding a small colourful floral umbrella with a
big-sized sunglass over her face and a strand of lanky hair dangling over her
forehead.
Gossip had it that the mam was so much
educated, beautiful and demanding that she never found her match and decided to
stay unmarried. People used to say that she hails from a very rich and cultured
family but no one ever saw any of her family members paying visit to her. Nor
would she ever stationed-out in a vacation. Rachna mam was the talk of that
small town. People talked about her family, her way of living, her dresses, her
beauty and every possible meaningful or meaningless thing related to her. Mam
hardly talked to anyone. Whatever was spoken of her were merely conjectures as
people simply loved to talk of her. They were highly imaginative and the mam
was mysteriously enigmatic.
Mam was
at her best while conducting her elementary classes. She had been assigned the
task of teaching Hindi alphabets to newcomers. She never looked gaunt, pensive
and uninterested in the classroom. She always sounded vibrant, energetic and
enthusiastic. She would attend every pupil of the classroom and never sat on the
hard wooden chair meant for her.
We recited
Hindi alphabets almost everyday in the classroom even without caring how they
appeared in written form. She would say a….and the whole class would resound
with a, she would say aa, I , ee, u ,oo
and the whole class would resonate with these magical sounds of
alphabets. This used to reinvigorate her.
Rachna mam had a very impersonal style of teaching. Although she paid
individual attention to every pupil, she would give her gentle touch to none.
She never coaxed or cajoled us or gave any false hopes to win over. I hardly
remember her loosing her equanimity and issuing any threat to any of us. we
were completely in her control. She had a telling gesticulation which she used
to teach the novice how to hold a pencil and scribble it meaningfully on their
rectangular slate.
After imbibing
alphabets and barah khadi( ka kaa ki
kee ku koo,etc.) when we started giving them the established shape, it became
more than easier. Mam believed and said that before forming any letter if the
name of the letter was rehearsed loudly and continuously, a mental shape of
that letter originated in our mind which helped us to recreate it easily on our
slate. We remained ignorant of her psychological approach to teaching us but
she could successfully replicate the theory into practice.
On a winter
morning when the feeble rays of the sun were trying slowly to break into the
heavy cloud of mist, people began to swarm towards mam’s residence. A large
number of people had thronged there. News was that Miss Rachna Tripathy(sorry
mam to call u by your name), the primary teacher of M.T.P. Railway school,
Birmitrapur (Orissa) had hanged herself to death with her ceiling fan…………….
I was
eight years old then and was studying in class three. I had never stopped
visiting her during those three years. I was prevented visiting her that morning
when she breathed her last. I was told wahan
itne log hai, aaj tumhara kaam nahi hai. I scantly knew the true meaning of death. I just wanted
to see my beloved mam when everybody else had gathered there to see her……….
Rumours went ripe that miss Tripathy ended her life for love. People
were saying that she had been in love with a man who betrayed her and married another
woman almost five years back. When she could not tolerate the pain which have
accumulated over the years, she ended her life. Police came and searched her
room for any suicide-note if she left. They found none except her personal
diary in which she had written many poems.
Miss Rachna mam had vanished
in a bizarre darkness which we call death but her story still circulates around
my small town. Just a few days after her untimely demise, the banyan tree fell
off the ground crushing the quarters in which our mam resided.
We
are truly grateful to Rachna mam who made us across the meaning and importance
of silence in life. she not only taught us how to write and decipher the alphabets,
but also the intellectual, philosophical and emotional connotation of each
letters of the alphabets on which the entire edifice of life rests.
Thank you mam for being there when we needed
you the most.
May your innocent soul rests in peace!
with a tearful eyes and a heavy heart
Vashistha Ray.
