Vulnerability

 

Badal is my first-grade student, a bit of a confused boy. However, he is memorable because of his innocent, naive mother. I went to his house to enroll him in school. His mother started chatting, just as if she were meeting an old friend for a casual conversation. All I could say was, "Hmm, hmm."

Badal's father had gone to the other village for work. I casually asked, "Why don't you go to your husband? It's better to stay with him than to stay here alone." 

"He beats me a lot after drinking alcohol," she replied. I couldn't say anything in response to her answer. 

Of course, after Diwali, she went to her husband's house, and Badal's school was closed. Despite all efforts, I was unable to contact her. 

When I go to the pada in the month of June and see Badal, it means that the family has returned. If the children are away from school for a long time, it is difficult to bring them back to school regularly. The same thing happened to Badal. Despite telling his mother repeatedly, he did not come to school. As the uniform distribution was starting, I informed Badal's house. Children who never come to school are present on time for the benefit scheme with their parents. Badal was given a uniform. After lunch break, Badal's stomach ached. When I saw him, Badal was rolling on the ground.

I put him on a scooter, took my fourth-grade student with me, and went to the padda . Badal's mother came to me outside the hut. 

"Does his stomach hurt a lot, madam?" she asked in a worried tone. 

"Oh, he was rolling on the ground. If I give him water, he will vomit. Go to the hospital. Take care of him." 

"Madam, can you take me to the scooter? Let's take Badal to the doctor?" she asked hesitantly. The scooter was running low on petrol, and in my hurry, I left my purse at school. But I felt sorry for her vulnerability. I went to school with the girl, brought my purse, and went to the village. The doctor was taking his afternoon rest and didn't wake up, so we returned from outside. 

She saw a medical shop on the way. Badal's mother went to get pills. "His stomach ache will stop, madam," she said and took Badal away. I was standing near the scooter, watching them. The distraught mother and the frightened boy were a very pitiful sight. On the way back, I stopped the scooter at a petrol pump to fill up.

Badal's mother immediately took out fifty rupees to give me. "Here, madam, fill up the petrol." I laughed at her words. "No, I brought my purse. I'll fill it." But she insisted again, "Madam, you brought us on the scooter" 

"This money is used to pay for the hospital. Do you see how much trouble he causes?" I got angry at her. But she was looking at me with surprise and joy. I dropped her off near her hut and returned to school, but her thoughts were still running through my head: her vulnerability, poverty, and yet her honesty. The thought of paying for a ride lingered. I had experienced the honesty of poor parents many times before.

Even when Laxman and I, at his mother's insistence, went to the city from school and brought his school uniform, his mother was still insisting on paying for petrol. At that time, my refusal and the surprise on her face were still fresh in my mind.

Aadhar card issuance had just started. There was a lot of confusion because of the new policy.One day, a very elderly couple came to me to fill out the Aadhar card registration form. After filling out their form, they started to give me a twenty-rupee note. When I asked them about it, they replied that there was a fee for filling out the form. "They charge money to fill out this paper." The couple was very poor, and their clothes were tattered. I felt deeply sorry for them, and I was very angry at the people who took money from them. 

I have seen hands stained with corruption due to greed for money. I always come across people who rob the humble, the poor, and the needy. Where are the poor who think about how to take something for free from others, and where are the rich in money but poor in heart!

Affection

 I love the form of a woman as a mother. I love to see a woman as a mother more than in any other role. Therefore, as soon as I entered the school premises, the mother in me was alert even before the teacher woke up.

Pari's brother, Rajendra, entered the first grade. Being a small and motherless boy, he never left Pari's side. Naturally, Rajendra used to sit in my class with Pari. He may have become stubborn and very emotional because he lost his mother's protection at a young age.

Initially, a stubborn boy was the image before my eyes. One day, Ravindra got a wound on his leg and came crying. Holding his hand, I took him to the kitchen and applied turmeric on the wound, lovingly taking care of his head. Of course, all this happened unconsciously and out of habit.So I was not paying attention to Ravindra's face, but he was looking at me the same way. After this incident, I realized that Ravindra was lingering near me. He was sitting nearby with a slate pencil. One day, he was crying outside because he had fallen. Pari came running to the classroom. There were tears in her eyes and worry on her face. "Madam, Ravindra fell; he is crying."I went outside and held him close. . I ran my hand over his head lovingly. He calmed down. During the meal, Pari could not eat unless Ravindra sat down. He kept repeating his mantra of "I don't want to eat." Go near him and hold his hand. Ravindra, who would not listen to anyone, would sit down to eat quietly.

Gradually, I began to realize that he was hungry for love. He was very young when his mother died. That 

 With a little love, Ravindra would be happy and would hang around me all day long. A few months passed beautifully. As Ravindra said, he would study as he pleased. However, if his father went out of town, Ravindra would not stay at school. Therefore, it was necessary to keep him close with love as much as possible.

Many such children meet me every year. They need not a teacher but a mother. But I am fortunate enough to be Yashoda every time—a fountain of affection that never dries up. The more you feel, the more it flows.

Relationship with the divine

 

Due to my rude nature, I get along with very few people. Apart from my family, only one or two people have been able to enter my emotional world. The rest, whether relatives, colleagues, or acquaintances, are all kept at a distance. At home, my husband makes me angry by saying, "You are the number one rude lady. Everyone is afraid to talk to you." But I don't care. On the contrary, everyone is surprised that any child can become like me in a moment. Even I am surprised. In any school, the students from my school make their home in my heart, and then our emotional world is created, just like theirs and mine. There is no place for any formality or self-respect in this. "Children feel safe with you. That's why they remain so carefree," one day, Sir told me. "I have observed this many times." But I feel like this is a gift from the house of gods. Whether it is a student or any other child, I feel that enjoying it is the happiest moment of my life..At that time, I forgot all my sorrows and worries. Some incidents happened in such a way that some events occurred that strengthened my faith in this divine relationship. 

We went to call the children to the pada. Of course, Amit, Soni, and Sapna came with us. The school and the pada are one and a half km away, so our group was chatting as we went. Since the parents were mostly out in the fields for work, the place was quiet. Some students met. I would have accompanied them to school. We went from the pada to school. The girls were chatting away. Amit and I were coming back. We came to the highway. We turned left, saw the cars, and started crossing the road. It was a four-lane highway. We came near the divider. My attention was on the girls.. . A truck was coming from afar. "Sapna, Soni, the truck is coming. Stop!" I continued my chatter. The girls were standing on the divider chatting. But I was afraid; would they notice the truck in their chatter?In this confusion, I was unaware that a car was coming from the right at high speed. I was standing on the highway. Amit was looking at the car. "Madam, the car is coming. Come on," he said with fright.. I was looking at the truck like a fool. Finally, Amit stood behind me so that he would take the first impact of the car and Madam would be saved. As soon as I realized that Amit was not around, I turned back. Then I saw a car coming from somewhere. I quickly pulled Amit closer. "Madam, I have been calling you for a long time. You weren't paying attention."

"My son, these sparrows were chatting and looking at each other," I said, waving my hand over his head. By now, both the car and the truck had left. We crossed the rest of the highway, but I was still thinking about his behavior . So much love! Even though the car was far away, was that child afraid that the car might hit the madam? He stood in front of the car to save me.

I was calm until I reached school. We both walked silently, my hands on his shoulders. This same Amit used to take great care of me when I was teaching in first grade. I love to make the students sit in a circle, and I sit on the floor near them to teach them. However, the floor of my classroom was bad; there were many cracks. From those cracks, scorpion babies came out. When the scorpion appeared, Amit's attention was on me. The scorpion came out right next to me. Immediately, Amit said, "Madam, scorpion." Saying this, he brought a small stone and killed the scorpion. This happened at least once every day.

Seven to eight girls, like Radha, Manisha, and Pari, wanted to cross the highway. I was watching them as they did so. While crossing the road, Radha's mask fell onto the road. We stood at the divider. Just as Radha was about to go to get the mask, I stopped her and started to leave. "Madam, don't go! A car is coming; I'll go," Manisha shouted from behind. Just then, when I came back with the mask, the girl immediately started crying and hugged me.

An awareness campaign against tobacco and gutkha was ongoing. The students wanted to understand its ill effects. While speaking, I said casually, "We will start the tobacco and gutkha ban from our homes. At home, we should help our parents and grandparents understand."

"Madam, we are young. Who will listen to us?" Manisha started saying.

 "Explain to them that tobacco and gutkha cause many diseases. Many people have died because of this, and we need our mommy and daddy. Then they will definitely listen. Because if we don't have mommy and daddy, we will worry about ourselves."

"We will come to your house! You will take care of us," Arya immediately said.  

"Yes, ma'am, we will come to your house," the other girls also started saying.  

I couldn't stop my laughter. Whatever thoughts are in our heads, children dispose of them in a second.

Sir comes to pick me up after school. It takes him time to pick me up after school due to closing his school and other work. Instead of sitting in school for so long, I went with the students. I let them cross the road and then walk slowly so that I can walk as much as I want. But what if my students leave me alone? When their pada comes, they go their own way, and I go straight onto the highway. However, my children come with me instead of going to their pada. Our party starts at a half-kilometer pace. No matter how much I insist, the children don't go back. "We won't leave you alone," they say. The children's party is still waiting. The passing vehicles, the passengers, and the parents we meet in the middle all watch our trip with admiration. Sometimes they even ask questions. When the students saw Sir in the distance, the entire group went back, saying, "Madam, Sir has arrived, bye," and they ran towards their pada.

Where can you find such unselfish love in this practical world? These children are poor in money but rich in heart. If they love, they will die for us. After passing the fourth standard, they will have to go to another school for the fifth standard. They cry because they will not meet me. Kajal and Atul run and hug me as soon as they see me. All these are the flowers of God's house, and our relationship is to take care of God's house. I like my simple life. I love to enjoy myself, my school, and my family. Because this is my relationship with God and my worship of God.

Let me speak

 

Kids always have something to say. Constant talking is just their default state.. Due to our workload, we can't give the children as much time as we'd like. Constant chatter is the constant emotion of the situation. We forget about it, and then our declared sentence starts with" keep quiet." 

In my class, a young girl from the village committed suicide by consuming poison. When I went to school, there was chatter about this. After a while, Priyanka, the third grader, came to me with teary eyes. Seeing the always smiling, playful Priyanka crying, I hurriedly approached her.

"What happened, dear?" My question made Priyanka blush even more. "Madam, my grandmother poured kerosene on herself and set herself on fire. I saw everything from the window." Priyanka was speaking in a trembling voice. I pulled her closer and started pacifying her by rubbing her back. "I didn't tell anyone. I told you now," she kept talking. She was moaning in my lap for a long time.

My first grade student, Mohit, was very quiet and shy. He stuttered while speaking. I started treating him with love and affection.One day Mohit himself came near me and started chatting. While talking, he suddenly said" I was sleeping. Then when I woke up, Papa had a rope around his neck and then Papa didn't wake up at all." I didn't understan what he says.. A girl in the class who lived next door explained it.

""Madam, he was young when his father was hanged. But he saw it." Then I started treating Mohit more gently. When the same Mohit went to the second and started giving a speech, his uncle praised him a lot. 

Rajshree is my fourth-grade student. Due to her addicted father, her mother, who endured abuse from her husband, and the constant fighting at home, she was always sad and lonely at school. She could not bear to talk at all. She was beaten up, and she didn't want to talk at all. I was forced to talk by blowing on the wound. It was great to see Rajshree laughing and chatting with her friends.

"You made me angry; I won't tell you now that we are going to collect all the money and buy you a gift," Kajal was talking to me angrily while eating.

 "Don't tell me you're going to give me a gift," I said with a smile.

 In the second-grade class, they were sharing information about pets. 

A mixed language experiment was going on, my Marathi and their Adivasi.  

"Animals that we like, animals that we like to live with, animals that we like to take care of, and animals that are useful to us are called pets."  

"That means pet dog," Mangal shouted happily.  

"Exactly." My praise increased the enthusiasm of the children and made a lot of noise.  

Each student started talking about their favorite animals. Suddenly, Manisha said, "Actually, my favorite pet is the our madam. But I told you about the peacock." Pari and Aradhana started chattering after her.  

"Yes, Madam are my favorite pets, " Then the class chanted, "madam is my favorite pets, ." I was left confused by this confusion.  

"Madam! How is your favorite pet?" I asked her very curiously.  

"Because we love being with you. We love you so much. We love taking care of you."  

It was difficult to control both the tears in my eyes and the uncontrollable laughter that came from her answer. .As soon as she extended both her hands and i took Manisha close, a circle of sparrows surrounded me. 

Tired of the children's habit of staying at home, I decided that students who were absent would be punished. "But if Madam stays at home, will she be punished?" Arun asked doubtfully. .After holding back my laughter for a long time, I informed them about the leave. From that day on, the children started coming to see me eagerly whenever I began signing the muster.

After the paripath, Satish came to me in the classroom and said, "Madam, you abused me!" I was a little surprised. "Son, when does Madam speak badly?" He shook his head negatively at my question. "Never." Saying this, he ran away laughing.

 Arya, who was in first grade, was being taught subtraction. I was explaining the concept of zero and teaching the example of two minus two.

"Arya, suppose these are two chocolates. If you eat both, how many will be left?"  

"Two," Arya answered my question.  

"How?"  

"Look, these are the two chocolates on top. I will eat them now, and these two chocolates on the bottom, I will eat them tomorrow."

Listening to her explanation, I experienced both surprise and laughter. Children understand examples by being shown actual objects.

Tired of their childish chatter, one day I got angry and said to them, "You chatter so much that if anyone ever comes to school, they will say how much these children chatter. Don't you tell them something, madam?"

Exactly one day, the officer came for a quality inspection. My beloved students followed my orders exactly. Not a single student answered; everyone was completely silent. If anyone tried to speak, Manisha would say, "Shhhhu, don't speak," to silence them. 

After this incident, I even stopped saying, "Be quiet." Being with these innocent souls is like being in the company of God. Where else can you find such unadulterated joy and such an innocent feeling? Often, these children say things that make us introspect and think, "Is this really true?" 

We just need to open the doors of their hearts once, and their call should reach us: "Let me speak."

Pari (fairy)

  

'"If you don't bring me almonds tomorrow, look!" The little pari pointed her index finger at me and said to me
'I will definitely bring it,' I said with a smile, and Pari ran away to go home.
"Pari is the first standard girl in my school. She was delicate like a fairy, fair-skinned like a little doll. Any class student in my school is the same to me. Not only in my class but also with students from other classes, I have a bond. So all the children in the school are approached with equal rights. Of course, sometimes the kids in my class assert their rights by saying, "It's our ma'am!" but they seem to want this sweet "ma'am is mine" argument as much. Pari is the sister of my student, Sandeep; he is in my class. Sandeep is a smart and lovely student. The real name of the pari is Archana. But as soon as I saw her, the name "Pari" came to my lips.
Of course, being a school in a tribal area, the fairy tales had not yet reached here. Our stories revolved around animals, kings, queens, demons, thieves, and demons. So who are fairies, and what do they do? Then I explained who the fairies are and what they do.

"But Madame Archie has no wings? She can't fly.?" Sandeep said it in surprise. I couldn't stop laughing.
"Oh, fairies aren't real. They are only in stories. Archu looks sweet like a fairy, so I call her Pari."I did not know how much they understood my speech. But it came to light that Madam was so in love with Pari. The peculiarity of tribal societies is their unity. Everyone supports each other. Take care of all the children of Pari. It was felt from her behavior that Pari should be loved at home as well. Go out of the classroom to drink water or pee, and slowly enter my classroom and get pampered by me. .One day, Pari slowly came to my class with a board. 'Write me a barakhdi, my madam said,' Pari said, handing the slate to me.
' Don't you do your studies then?
'I can't write."
'Pari replied to my question. I finished her study looking at her. The girl jumped and ran to the classroom. Pari appeared again in half an hour.
'what now'? Looking at my questioning face, Pari said, "Our madam asked who wrote on the slate?" 
So what did you say?' I asked curiously. ' I will say that you wrote it.' Pari spoke innocently. Her sweet face looked as innocent as a delicate flower. My fairy was beyond true.She is far away from lies, anger, and hatred. 
She likes to sit quietly in my chair and watch me while I teach. Pari pointed to the bench to answer my question, "Now where do I sit?" I pick up the pari and put her on one side of the table, so I can do my work. Of course, Pari continued to do her pranks there too. Today, the stripes she drew on the teacher's presence book bear witness to it, as my students still testify to the lines drawn by Pari on the student presence book. This sweet and beloved fairy suddenly became distant and distant. I thought Madam was stopping her studies. But even on lunch break, Pari was staying far away. Her brother, Sandeep, remained depressed. In between, they went to study at a government residency school in the district. I felt a little depressed. But this was normal. On Corona's vacation, they started coming to our school. Pari smiled from afar but did not come close. Due to the Corona epidemic, school nutrition
(mid-day meal) was closed. Children have to bring lunch boxes from home. Of course, tiffin boxes were not available in every house. Then chutney bhakri or chutney poli is brought in a cloth or plastic bag.Pari's grandmother brought tiffins for them. But after a few days, she didn't bring tiffins. Sandeep and Pari used to be sad about it. One day, while observing the children, it was realized that Sandeep and Pari did not bring the lunch boxes. When the children sat down to eat, these two were playing in the playground. When I was called and asked about food, the answer was 'no hunger'. But seeing his sad face and the tears in Sandeep's eyes, I suspected that something was wrong. I called Pari near, gave her some money, and asked her to take food and eat. Pari initially refused, but went after her insistence. After eating, her face became happy again.

"Didn't Pari let Sandeep eat this?" to my question 
"He didn't take it," said the fairy, who ran away. The next day, I swam, filled two tiffins, and took them to school. On the lunch break, Sandeep used to go and play like always. I called them near and asked them to eat both the lunch boxes. Both the children happily ran away with the boxes. After a while, Sandeep ran in. "Ma'am, a "Ma'am, may you have a tiffin for you? You won't eat."

"No. Both the boxes are yours." I said, waving my hands over his head. All the children packed the lunch boxes. I was bringing as many lunch boxes as possible. One day, I went to Pada for work. I met Pari's grandmother. With great admiration, she was showing the house with great admiration. "Madam, build the house. This floor is installed. Now there is a sheet on top. But then the water below will not get wet.Now rainwater will not come into the house during the rainy season. In monsoon," the children inquired while chatting with her. "Madam Sandeep is big. Then Archana, her little brother, the youngest,
"Where is Archana's mother?” I asked casually.
"We kicked her out." Grandma said it angrily. "She wasn't working at all. So I gave it away. Now we will bring another one. Doughter in low," Grandma was talking easily. But I kept looking at her.
"This is my little daughter-in-law, who does everything. It feeds me, the children. How much work does she do?" Pari's grandmother was talking. And I realized the reason behind the sad faces of the children. Aunt feeds. But don't get up in the morning and do it. I brought something in a tiffin for them every day. When my pari started laughing again, I realized that her mother had returned.
. She has no parents, so her question is, Where to go no matter how much her husband beats her.?' Pari, who is always smiling, brings tears to her eyes when she brings up the subject of her mother. .Pari is growing up watching domestic quarrels and the inhuman beating of her mother. God knows how many children are wasting away their childhood with domestic violence.
Sometimes Pari used to come to school very well prepared. Her mother dresses her well. The sweet pari looked even sweeter. It was immediately noticed that there was a happy atmosphere in the house today. Pari's mother's thumb was fractured by her husband. So Pari had to stay home frequently for housework. Once her mother came to school, I asked about staying at Pari's house. She mumbled something in her mouth and left. I am a bit angry with her behavior: 'What a careless woman? There is no concern about the girl's education.' I went to class muttering like this.
One day while going to school, a parent suddenly said to me in front of the school, "Ma'am, she is behaving unbecomingly toward her. She should at least think of three small children."

I don't know anything. "What happened, brother?"
"Madame Archie's mother committed suicide at night. No one knows what will happen now." I was shocked to hear his words. How is this possible?
Pari's mother loved her three children very much. She remained close to her husband despite suffering all the hardships for the sake of the children. She used to give a good turn to the pari. Her mother loves to decorate the pari. A few months ago, she lodged a complaint with the police station against her husband's domestic violence. Since then, she has come to live in the colony from Pada. How can such a brave woman commit suicide? I don't know anything. Pari witnessed it. Therefore, Pari's testimony was recorded at the police station. How could such a young girl know? How will she testify? Many questions were coming to mind. I am so worried about Pari. I saw Pari attend school when I went to school the next day. I took her close and turned my hand on her back. At such times, words become mute. Pari's father went to jail. Grandma went elsewhere, fearing the police. Uncle and Aunty take care of Pari and her siblings. Pari comes to school every day to study. Whenever she sees me sitting quietly, she says to herself"Madam is s upset." Pari takes my mobile and says, Madam, smile, I am taking your photos." Then the pari takes pictures until I laugh. Sometimes she makes me laugh by suddenly making strange noises in my ears.
Every day after school, Pari comes slowly to me and kisses my cheek. When Pari is held close, I remember my Sonpari. Then the hug gets tighter.
 

 

 

 

 

 

Unwanted

 ' Dali, 'The name was a little different." But the girl was innocent. They are the fifth or seventh children of their parents.

As the eldest, she is beloved by her father. Her older sister, Lachha, had learned from my class. Elder brother Dashrath was in my class. And now Dali is one of my first standard students. If Dali did not come to school, it was usual to go to her house, meet her parents, and explain to them. When the father became the deputy sarpanch of the village, he said, 'Madam, I have a lot of work to do." Where do I get the time?" The real answers started coming. Her elder sisters had dropped out of the same school. Big family, mother pregnant every year, taking care of younger siblings, so none of them had completed their education. Dali is good at studying in it. So it was my struggle that at least her education should not be interrupted.

I once went to her house, like always. When I explained this to her mother, she became pregnant again. "Why don't you do a family planning operation?" The answer to my question was, "We are expecting a male child.". 

I returned to the school, explaining that Dali should be sent there. But Dali was absent. After many days' absence, Dali came back to school.

"Why didn't you come to school for so long? Are you worried about your studies?" I asked her angrily. "Ma'am, I have a new-born sister. So I was at home." Dali said.

"How is your sister?"

"She is dead," Dal replied to my question. What will happen if she doesn't die? I was muttering to myself. How much to explain? It doesn't matter.

I was looking at Dali. "Was your sister sick? How did she die?"

"Covering the basket on baby down, she said then," Dali was saying easily. I didn't refer to her sentence. The first standard little girl who was saying anything. I asked her to sit down. "Little girls say anything," I casually asked the cooks at lunch break.

"Ma'am, she is telling the truth,"' said a cook. 'Among them, the girl is killed at an early age. Tobacco is put in the leaves of the Nagarvel plant, and it's placed in a newborn girl's mouth. And she is covered in a basket. The girl dies of suffocation within an hour and a half. Then most of them bury in the house.'

The cook was saying, and I was listening dumbfoundedly,How is this possible?" I was confused. A family was seen aborting the fetus through gender testing. But this was very scary. explained in detail. I did not know how to react. How can a newborn baby be treated so cruelly? At least, how can a mother's heart agree?

"Madam, they feel nothing. For them, this is just a custom," cook Tai was saying.

Killing a living girl like that? How terrible it feels to hear. An unwanted girl lives with the stamp of unwantedness all her life. But here, her right to live was taken away. Instead of killing an ant, we are sinful people who think, 'Put sugar on it and it will go away'... Here, the young soul is suffocated; it is only for the girl because she is unwanted. The essence was shocking to my middle-class mind. And the subject was so sensitive that there was nothing I could do. My protest was like gently patting an elephant on the back. The elephant would not feel anything, but it would be time to go to the feet of the elephant to try patting on its back. At such a time, the laws of equality, rights, and protection of women all seem to be stupid. Fortunately, soon we were transferred from there, and my thoughts on this subject stopped. A period of 10–12 years passed in between. When I re-investigated, it was much improved. Killing girls is rare now. But what Dali's parents did was have a son.An awful incident happened in Dali's parents lives as a result of what they had done to have a son. His only son also committed suicide at the age of 16. The son did not remain. But the girls they didn't want are the same girls with them...

 

 

Mother

 After school in the evening, I went home with my daughter. Since I lived in the village, I was going home after school. Pratiksha and Naina were walking in front of me. Little did they know that I was coming back. So their chat started. Suddenly Naina said, "How wonderful it would have been if Manisha ma'am was our mother and Sunil sir was our father. No!" Patiksha confirmed it. I laughed.

Naina, my dear student; her name in school is Pratiksha. But there was still a very naughty girl with the same name in my class; she was also Pratiksha. Similar in name but opposite in nature. So we called this quiet girl by her nickname, Naina. Very quiet and soft-spoken, Naina soon joined my group of favorite students. . Be it competition or study, Naina was at my house till night. When her father used to come to pick her up, he would jokingly say, 'You should adopt our Naina. She stays at your house more now'. Mohini, Pratiksha, and Naina were the trio. Only Naina is calm in it. The other two were very naughty. So their day was not worth it without being punished by me once every day. But Naina never had to be punished.It was usual for them to tell me when they were hungry, take the house key from me, eat lunch, and come back to school with everything. Whenever I fell sick, they would come home immediately and make me rest by doing all the household chores. It was also known in their homes where their daughters would be if they were not at home during the day. So they can also rest assured. Naina went to college, and her mother died of cancer. I felt very bad. Naina and her elder sister are unmarried. Father is passionate by nature. Whenever I met Naina, her face and mine would light up. "Come home, dear," I insisted, and "sure, madam," was her assurance. But that time never came. And one day it was heard that Naina got married of her own choice (a love marriage). If you think about what's wrong with it, But in rural areas, and especially with a quiet and aloof girl like Naina doing it, there might have been more discussion. I felt both admiration and surprise. Of course, with time, everyone calmed down. Naina's mother-in-law was a teacher. Once, we met in a meeting. "Naina misses you a lot. She always says Manisha madam is my favorite madam," said her mother-in-law.

"Naina is my daughter. Take care of her. She is very good. And since she is not a mother, give her the love of a mother." She smiled at my words and said, "Naina is not my daughter-in-law but my best friend." I felt good about her speech. Once, I had a long talk with Naina on the phone. The child was very happy. The decision was right. I was very happy with this.

In between, she got the happy news that she was going to be a mother. Her baby was born during Corona. So it was not possible to go to see the baby. But I saw the photo with her baby on WhatsApp. It was a very sweet photo. Sweet baby and her face full of love. It felt great. Naina, who saw me as a mother until yesterday, became a mother herself today. Transference of motherhood as well. But still, the same innocent Naina appears in front of my eyes.