Strength to Say No (17 page)

‘Oh yes?'

‘Yes, I'm working in construction. I'm a builder and painter. There's a lot of work in this line. They're putting up new buildings every day here. It's exhausting, but the wages are better.'

‘When are you coming to see us? It's been a long time since you came back to the village.'

‘Not for six months. I'll come to see you during the next monsoon when there won't be any more work here.'

He asks to speak to Baba before the phone runs out of credit. I unpack my things while they chat for a moment.

I would have liked my brother to become a teacher. It's true that it's not paid very well, but there are several advantages to teaching in one's own village. You don't have to move house, you stay near your family and you can easily look after them in case there's a problem. The work is very interesting and instructive, on top of which you profit from a certain prestige that benefits the whole family. Instead of that Dipak goes from one hard manual job to another. Now it's impossible for him to move in another direction. Baba rings off and hands me the phone. I'm happy that he's here. He watches over me and prevents unfounded rumours from circulating. My mother and my family would never stand for anybody being able to call into question my modesty nor sullying my honour by spreading doubts about my virginity because I am far from home or because I am rubbing shoulders with strangers who could take advantage of the situation. A girl, even a poor one, is duty-bound in all circumstances to stay far from men and to be sure to avoid any compromising situation.

At the end of the afternoon we are all invited into the hotel lobby. They inform us that a series of activities is planned for this fortnight and that we must wear the uniform on each official outing. We are issued with a dark-red jacket featuring the national coat of arms, a pair of matching trousers, two pairs of socks and a pair of black lace-up shoes. We are invited to get acquainted with each other and to use this first evening to rest after our trip. I have trouble getting my head around the fact that we all come from the same country. Some boys wear turbans, some girls wear bracelets up to their shoulders. I later learn that the girls come from the region of Rajasthan in the far west of the country. One kid of about ten has slanting eyes and thick black hair. He looks Chinese, although his parents live in Assam. It took him more than two days to get to New Delhi by train. I am immediately faced with the language barrier. His dialect is completely strange to me, and the same for the girl with the bracelets. Afsana tells me that they are speaking their regional language just as we speak Bengali. She nevertheless manages to exchange some remarks with them in Hindi. I ask her to translate what they are saying to each other.

The girl saved several people from drowning. The ferry was crossing a branch of a river when she saw water coming in at the back of the boat. She at once warned the captain, who turned back to the riverbank where he had just weighed anchor. Without her intervention the boat would have sunk, and hundreds of people would have been drowned. In Rajasthan, as in Bengal, people rarely know how to swim.

The young boy was at the market with his mother. He noticed a man who was parking his motorbike on the pavement without bothering to untie the two big bags on the luggage
carrier. He immediately thought that it could be an explosive device because a few months before that a bomb had destroyed a market, causing the deaths of several dozen people. Since then the police had called for increased vigilance. He told his mother, but she didn't believe him. The boy, who must be three or four years younger than I, then shouted, ‘Bomb alert!' in the middle of the bazaar. Some men ran to him and he pointed at the motorbike and said that a man had just parked it a few minutes ago before rushing off. The market was evacuated and the police took over. A squad of bomb-disposal experts confirmed that the bag contained explosives. He was invited to meet the inspector general of the police, who suggested that he should be included in the annual Day of Young Heroes of the Nation.

Each of the following days was marked by at least one meeting with the big shots of the country. We met ministers who told us again and again that our deeds were inspirations for millions of our countrymen. There were many activities planned for every day. We went to the zoo, to the amusement park, to plays and to performances of northern Indian Kathak dancing. The next day was the most important because we were due to meet the prime minister in person. We were welcomed by one of his councillors who checked that our outfits were spotless before inviting us to follow him. We were taken to a sumptuous room with walls delicately tiled with an exquisite blue-tinted mosaic. In spite of his great age the prime minister was determined to greet us individually. He gave each child a garland of flowers, putting it around each neck. He spoke slowly and listened to accounts of why we had been chosen for this annual national
event. Each of us was entitled to a little thoughtful and personal word. I was impressed by his height and his knowledge. Then he sat down on a chair and reminded us that he, too, came from a very deprived background. He said that he studied by candlelight in order to discover the light of knowledge. I was enthralled by his personal journey and by his speech, which was translated for me as he spoke. We were given a watch and a clock. I was determined to say good-bye to him and thank him before he left. The guards forbade me to approach him, but he came back one last time and put his hands together and bowed his head towards me.

I try to talk with my new friends in Hindi, but the conversation is laborious. The fact is that we don't understand each other. I have to keep calling in Afsana to interpret. The security guards laugh when they hear me making such a mess of it. However, that does not prevent us from having meals at the table with other kids. On the contrary, these linguistic concoctions give rise to unpredictable discussions that make us hoot with laughter.

They told us about the programme for the following days, the most important being Republic Day when we, as well as the army, would pass in review before the president of the country. I was astonished to learn that we would ride on the back of an elephant during the parade! I talked to my father about it once we were in our room.

‘I will not climb up on an elephant.'

‘You say that because you're afraid, but don't worry, it's not dangerous.'

‘I'm not afraid,' I said, telling a white lie. ‘It's true that the idea of being seated on the back of a pachyderm does not really
reassure me. But still, Baba, I can't climb up on Sri Ganesh – he's a god! And the son of Shiva! No, no, I find it insulting and degrading to put one's backside on the divinity who is supposed to remove obstacles from life – and, remember that he also represents knowledge. I would feel guilty the moment I did it.'

‘I don't think you have any choice, Rekha. The parade on Republic Day includes several thousand people! It's an honour to be there. You can't offend your hosts by refusing their customs.'

‘I prefer to upset human beings than a god. I'll have a word about it tomorrow with our handlers.'

‘Do what you like, but I doubt if they'll make an exception for you!'

The tutor in charge didn't seem at all offended by my request. On the contrary, he found my reasoning very respectful. He suggested that I get into one of the parade vehicles just behind the elephants. That shouldn't pose a problem. I thanked him, relieved not to have to climb up on to a howdah.

It's very cold this morning. A thick fog envelopes the great boulevard in front of the presidential residence as far as the India Gate. Soldiers in flashy uniforms, musicians and military vehicles parade in front of us. The officers salute the president, who is standing on the reviewing stand. The parade comes level with the head of state and the prime minister, and I feel hugely honoured to be there. Just when I salute I have the sensation that our eyes meet in spite of the poor visibility caused by the fog.

A big party is organized two days before our departure. There is music, and we all dance. I try once more to talk to my new friends. There is some progress, but not enough for me to
do without a translator. The vast size and diversity of our country hits home. I understand also that in spite of this mosaic the kids everywhere are urged to get married from a very young age – that it's not a local or regional phenomenon but indeed a national curse. The president said it during our first meeting, but I had not really taken in the full import of her words then.

Afsana snaps me out of my reverie. We have to hurry, we have an appointment for the official photo! All the young people are in their uniforms. A photographer points out the steps to us so that we can take our places, but just then a convoy of cars stops beside us. Surrounded by several bodyguards the president gets out of her car. The plan is for her to be in the picture. She comes up to me and I greet her respectfully by putting my hands together.

‘Hello, Rekha. How are you?'

‘Very well, Your Excellency. Thank you for your concern.' I reply naturally and politely as we have been taught by the people looking after us these last few days.

‘I am lucky to meet you twice. I hadn't thought that we would see each other again so quickly.'

‘I am the lucky one to meet you a second time in such a short space, Madam President.'

‘Have you enjoyed your stay?'

‘Oh yes, very much. I have learned so many things that I can't wait to tell my classmates!'

‘What do you want to do later?'

‘I don't know yet, Madam President. I would like to teach or help change things in our country, but I don't yet have a very precise idea, mainly because I don't want to have regrets if I don't manage it.'

‘I am not worried about you, and your future seems to me very promising. Let's go have the photo taken now,' she says, giving me the rose in her hand.

She sits down next to me. In a few seconds we will be in the same picture.

The next day we finished our visit by going to visit the Red Fort. I was dazzled by all the lights. It looked like Diwali, the Festival of Light, even though it was the middle of January and fog covered the city. Still, I was not unhappy to return to my village in Bengal. The further the train went, the more of my heavy clothing I could take off.