tradition (2005)

 One day, suddenly, Pooja got a phone call. "Madam, my marriage is fixed; I called you to invite you. Sure, come, madam. Will you come or not, madam?"

Pooja, I will definitely come," I assured. "Dear, you are so early; how will you be?" I said I was a little worried.

Madam, I have grown up now." Pooja said it with a smile.

 "Yes, dear, now that you are married, that means you have definitely grown up," I said.

Pooja is the most chatty girl in my class. Pooja's speech would stop only in her sleep; otherwise,  her chattering would continue. It doesn't matter if the other person hears you or not.Pooja, who doesn't sit still for a moment on the bench, Her favorite thing to do is come close to me., holding my chin in her hand and drawing my attention to herself.Pooja, my chin started to hurt; sit down now." Many times I used to get angry with Pooja. But Pooja doesn't want to be affected. No matter what component was being taught, within ten minutes Pooja would ask "Ma'am!" at least twenty times, so I never finished teaching the component as planned. One day, the teaching of the lesson'mulache pay palnyat distant (A child's feet are seen in the cradle') begins. It's a lesson from great scientist Edison. In the course of teaching, I simply said, "If you put in the effort, study well, and become a great researcher, your name will come up in a text." And I will teach the lesson to the children like this." "Madam, I will invent the bomb." Of course, no one but Pooja could have said this sentence. "What will you do after inventing a bomb?" I asked with a smile. "I will bomb blast my house," Pooja said.

"You and your grandfather and grandmother will die in that," said Vaishali, holding back her laughter. "Then what happened? My name will appear in the paper, right, ma'am?" Pooja was talking innocently, and the whole class was teasing. "Madam, Pooja will blow up the entire street with a bomb just to get her name on the paper," said Poonam. Her eyes were full of tears and laughter. After that, for half an hour, we had a discussion on the topic of 'famous a name by doing good work'. All the students in my class considered me a mother. This is my experience with every school. But Pooja was different. She didn't like her mother. She likes to call me mother very much. But she did not call her mother a mother. Her mother used to visit me all the time and complain, "Ma'am, explain something to Pooja; she doesn't call me mother. She insists on calling you mother." My usual job is to explain Pooja. But what kind of worship will you hear?With great anticipation as well as intelligence and dashing worship, Puja had a strange chemistry. Pooja participated in a play in a cultural program. One of the characters in the play was based on a person from the village itself. Of course, only I knew this. The play begins on stage. It was going great. The villagers were enjoying the play. Suddenly Pooja said on the microphone, "I know, this is what you are talking about; isn't it on that Tatya?"  if you think so, madam?" Everyone started looking at me after hearing this. And me down. Although Pooja went to high school in the fifth grade, this meeting was happening. Girls complain to her with the usual "madam, all sirs are tired of her" questions like "madam, if you don't understand, you have to ask, don't you?""Pooja used to remind me. Many years have passed. Pooja went to college. She did a B.Sc. She used to talk a lot when we met. I couldn't go to her wedding. She felt very sad, and I felt sad. Her parents arranged her marriage to a less educated boy. When I asked her, Pooja said, "It doesn't work like that, madam; no one asks a girl if she likes a boy. Parents decide to marry that boy."."Dear, your education and your intelligence will go to waste," I said worriedly. "Ma'am, they are going to teach me further." Pooja's voice had the same innocence. Her grandpa also giggled whenever he met Sir. "Her parents ruin pujas lives.". One day, Pooja got a phone call by mistake. Pooja started talking in ecstasy. "I miss you so much, madam. It feels like being a kid again and sitting in your classroom. What happy days those were! Won't those days come back, madam?" How much did we used to trouble you?" "I loved that trouble.". We both reminisced. "What happened to your further education, Pooja?" "Madam, it didn't happen this year; they are definitely going to take admission in MSC next year," Pooja was saying innocently. I knew that next year would never come. This is the reality of women's lives. Once I saw Pooja's WhatsApp, I saw that Pooja was standing with her husband, wearing a veil on her head, and wearing ornaments all over her body. The photo was great. My mischievous, chatty Pooja was looking at a worldly woman. We have to congratulate our tradition for this change in poojas life.

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