The family used to be our neighbor from the very first day we shifted to our own house. Initially a family of two with the wife brimming with a cheerfulness that was contagious— she lovingly cooked various delicacies and we had the privilege of devouring the delicious recipes she tried with deft hands…recipes topped with a certain goodness of spirit which gave them an additional flavor unexplainable in words. Soon they had a daughter and they named her Baani (meaning voice in Bengali). A cheerful petite soul, she brought with herself a surge of delight to the family. Soon she was a favorite with all of us as she graduated from the cradle and arms to a toddler who walked the neighborhood with her wobbling tiny legs. The wife often complained to my mother that she noticed this uncanny streak in Baani as she never answered when called by her name.
Initially disregarded as childhood inattentiveness or late responding traits but after a series of deliberations she visited the doctor and her case was diagnosed as a congenital hearing impaired syndrome. It took quite some time for everyone to accept the harsh truth, however once all of us got over the initial bafflement …started whatever I can precisely define to be ‘life’ for Baani. She started wearing the usual hearing aids…landed up in a school for the not so privileged and was gradually identified officially and unofficially as a ‘special child’. I met this special child every morning when I boarded the car for school and she greeted me with a smile broad enough to fit in all the life-force and strangely conveyed much more than a verbal greeting.
In other words she learnt the language of expressions…ones which were carefully articulated never to miss a speck of any emotion that was intended to be conveyed. Every night when the neighborhood was silent, I heard these muffled incoherent verses from behind the window of her room which I had to strain my ears to identify as sustained efforts to spell the letters of the alphabet. She was up perhaps till the middle of the night –given the extra effort she had to put in because of her special condition.
Those days I burnt my midnight oil in an attempt to triumph my efforts over a good score at my upcoming board exams. I had only one competitor in the whole neighborhood that I never could beat as far as night riding was concerned. My tired nerves gave in and I surrendered to the luxuries of slumber while she tirelessly pursued her endeavors at grammar and parts of speech or maybe on a more subtle level put in her heart and mind to graduate to a normal child from a special one. Whenever life graced me with my share of misgivings…unanswered prayers which left me somber and reflective…I found my terrace very effective. A place where I had carved my tiny own niche…a little corner but with cathartic effects strong enough to rationalize all my qualms. These were times I discovered a well-known face on the overlooking terrace. Baani had her little space for reflections too. A thoughtful and composed face but which always wore an understanding smile…as if she had well comprehended all the paradoxes of life. I felt so foolish to blame the whole world for not having things my way…and felt so grateful all of a sudden…for being someone who had the privilege of expression…there was this soul who would never say a word in her lifetime no matter how unfairly life treated her. Baani had her whole destiny to blame…and blame silently. I made a point to visit her often. To inspire and motivate her and talk to her just like I would do with any other normal child.
Talk about life in general, her day at school, her friends and about things that excited her. I knew in my heart she appreciated the fact that she was being treated just like a normal human being for a change, while the whole world flung her way oodles of sympathy. I told her the story of Helen Keller and how the will to win could outshine the vulnerability of resignation. I was walking home on an evening, I don’t exactly remember from where. And spotted Baani accompanied by her mother walking towards me happily swinging her tiny plaits wearing the same graceful smile which was so much a part of her character by now. As we treaded nearer her smile broadened as she suddenly drew a trophy from her school bag. She had topped the boards from her school that year. The next moment I was in tears when in an almost immaculate voice she declared…’this is for you…’ The following year Baani made to normal school.
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