by Bharati Thakur
Soni is barely seven years old. She has been coming to our Narmadalaya, with two siblings, clinging on both sides of her shoulders. They have unkempt hair. Normally they wear old or torn clothes. They walk barefoot because they can not afford new footwear. Nobody minds their torn clothes and unkempt hair because her other friends in the neighbourhood were not any different.
The three of them live in a ramshackle thatched hut on the bank of Narmada river called Bhatiyan, in Khargone district of Madhya Pradesh.
Our Nimar Abhyudaya Rural Management And Development Association (N.A.R.M.A.D.A.) is a spiritually oriented service mission. The Narmadalaya, as it is popularly called, has three schools at Lepa Punarvas, Bhattyan, and Chhoti Khargone, places in the vicinity of pilgrim centers, Mandaleshwar, and Maheswar. The schools are closed currently due to CORONA 19. We have utilised this phase of the lockdown to undertake the construction of a hall, toilet blocks, and a classroom. As it is, for the last two years, my visits to this place have become infrequent because of the pressure of work at the NARMADA.
I did not have many occasions to meet Soni and her sisters during my visits to the construction site. But soon I made friends with them, particularly with Soni. She is a sweet smiling girl. I soon noticed that she takes care of her sisters even at her tender age.
The children attend the school because the Narmadalaya provides them with mid-day meals every day. Even during the difficult COVID 19 period, offered snacks even, in the evening, like pohe, khichadi, or upama , a fruit, and a glass of milk to every child.
Soni takes care of her younger sisters and reaches them to the school premises on time for the evening snacks. The three sisters would disappear after their snacks were eaten. Soni would come back again during the late evenings to take her sisters to the playground. By then Soni appeared very tired but was keen to take them to play the swing, slide, ball and whatever was available to the rest of the playmates.
I started asking Soni: Why did she not attend the playschool’s activity like the locality’s other children did? Soni would keep mum. Obviously, she was not very enthusiastic to let me know about her poverty.
Her playmate was not that discrete. The playmate did not mind letting out things for my understanding.
She said Soni was required to work at someone else’s farm to earn money. Soni was, you see, the only source of earning for the entire family. She would every day pluck cotton from the farm to earn money. She would earn Rs. 120 per day.
I kept inquiring about Soni’s family.
I thought Soni could send at least her siblings to the Narmadalaya.
How can she! She has to take care of the two sisters. They have an old, ailing grandmother. It was not merely for food, but also for medicines and sundry expenses.
Pictures: Soni and her siblings
Soni takes the cattle of other families for grazing in the nearby meadows. That is to earn some extra money. How much does she earn from grazing?
Soni does not answer such questions. She parries, without sounding rude and arrogant.
“They do not pay on a daily basis”. She would say.
Soni’s friends gave me other information in bits and pieces, over a period.
Where are her parents? What do they do?
The mother left her children, and their father and the grandmother long ago because her father was a drunkard. He still is an alcoholic.
Others informed me:
He is not ashamed that he can not support his own children and his mother. On the other hand, he expects money from Soni for the liquor.
For a seven-year-old girl child, Soni shoulders so much burden of the family, without grumbling. She has already lost her childhood. She does not have anybody to complain to and share her misery.
I often feel that we should provide Soni shelter in our Narmadalaya’s hostel at Lepa Punarvas, in Kesaravad tehsil. We can somehow take care of all the three girls.
Or, we should request government agencies to look after them. There was an orphanage in the area where they can be lodged at the state’s expense.
Soni would not agree, because her sisters cry when they are hungry and Soni is not around. She has a grandmother to take care of.
Soni has surprised me with her sense of responsibility for the family in spite of all these heavy odds. Her wisdom, maturity, and prompt, wise responses to difficult situations.
Consider this. We at the Nirmadalaya had organised the distribution of frocks for the girls of the Bhatyan locality. Soni’s sisters received frocks of their size. But there was only one frock of Soni’s size left while we needed two. The other girl was visibly upset in anticipation that she would not get one that day. Soni very spontaneously told me not to worry about her, and hand over the frock to the other girl. Didi, you can give me some other time.
The deadlock was quickly resolved!
I realised then that Soni was already a grown-up, matured girl. As if she is a mother to the entire family. Responsibility for this ‘motherhood’ was thrust upon so early in her life not by anyone, but by destiny.
No school can teach her what she has already learned at seven.
About the Author:
Bharati Thakur is an avid traveller, environment lover and an acclaimed Marathi writer. She is a founder, secretary and trustee of Narmadalaya (Nimar Abhyudaya Rural Management and Development Association). She was a Central government employee in Maharashtra. She left home in her mid-30s to work in the neglected areas of the North-Eastern parts of India. She was instrumental in setting up a school in Golaghat in Assam and in bringing the tribal children of those areas back to the school. She has done Narmada Parikrama, a 3200 km arduous journey along the bank of the Narmada River and currently runs an organization called Narmadalaya for the education and well fare of kids from the underprivileged sections in the Mandleshwar Region. Her diary written in Marathi language during the Parikrama has been published in a book form (Narmada Parikrama – Ek Antaryatra) and also recently translated to Hindi. She can be reached at [email protected]