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Note: This is based on a story I heard from my Grandma when I was a kid. I think most of you will know this, in some form or other, but still (Actually, I really wanted to write it. :$)
Little Gopal lived with his mother Annapurna at the edge of a dense forest in a small village in the interiors of Bengal. His father had been dead for as long as he could remember. They were extremely poor, but still the mother and son were happy in their own rights.
Gopal studied in the pathshaala by the temple under the tutelage of one of the assistant priests. His mother helped the temple staff by completing odd jobs like making garlands and cleaning the temple premises.
Often, his Guru would call Annapurna to tell her how meritorious her child was. Even the other priests, who at times stopped to take a look at the students, would sometimes pat him on the back, or give him extra prasad for correct answers to their questions.
In the evenings, Annapurna would take Gopal to listen to the Krishna sankirtans in the temple. She sang along when the chorus came and clapped her hands to the tune whenever she managed. Occasionally she would fill him up on the stories behind the various hymns that were sung.
One day, the teacher called Annapurna to inform her that Gopal had long outgrown primary education and that he would no longer be able be his educational guide. He strongly insisted that Gopal go to the high school situated on the other side of the forest. "I will personally speak to the headmaster if you want. You see, they have a provision to support economically weaker students, a measure I highly approve of." he said.
Annapurna was reluctant to let this happen, since Gopal was much too young in her opinion, much too weak. Also, he was the sole reason why she lived. Gopal was also unwilling to go to any place where his mother couldn't go.
However, they had to give in to the teacher's persistence.
So, one fine summer morning, Annapurna took out the best clothes she had in store (those, that had less than three pairs of wears and tears) and dressed him with the greatest care she could assemble with drops of water threatening to cascade down her cheeks any moment. She gave him a slate, a couple of chalks and tied a little red ribbon around his longish brown hair.
With that she let him go.
Gopal kept looking back at his mother, before finally turning to enter the way that led to the forest.
It was dark. Not a bit of the scorching sun penetrated the deep canopies of the ancient trees.
Down in the village, they said the place was haunted.
Pulling up his slate to cover his mouth, Gopal started walking. He was trembling all over. Twice, his things fell out of his hand. He quickly picked them up and continued. He kept chanting Raam naam, though he was not sure if such a feeble voice could keep away the dangerous spirits that dwelt amidst the darkness.
Thanks to his fear, on the first day, he reached late. His teachers did not say anything, but gave him a smile painted in scorn that effectively heightened his sense of vulnerability. He was not used to this.
During the lunch break, he greedily stared at the delicacies his classmates threw down in the gutter, but didn't dare tell them how hungry he was. They soon noticed him staring at them and cruelly made fun of him, an act in which no teacher bothered to interfere.
At the end of the day, his head pounding, he stood again to face the oppressive darkness of the wilds. This time he managed to cross the stretch holding on to the sole thought that soon, he would be back in his mother's arms.
Sure enough, as soon as he turned to the left, he saw his beautiful mother leaning on the bamboo stick that held their kuchcha house, waiting for him. When she cupped his face and planted a kiss on his forehead, to ask him how the day was, somehow, he didn't feel like telling her the truth.
.
Little Gopal lived with his mother Annapurna at the edge of a dense forest in a small village in the interiors of Bengal. His father had been dead for as long as he could remember. They were extremely poor, but still the mother and son were happy in their own rights.
Gopal studied in the pathshaala by the temple under the tutelage of one of the assistant priests. His mother helped the temple staff by completing odd jobs like making garlands and cleaning the temple premises.
Often, his Guru would call Annapurna to tell her how meritorious her child was. Even the other priests, who at times stopped to take a look at the students, would sometimes pat him on the back, or give him extra prasad for correct answers to their questions.
In the evenings, Annapurna would take Gopal to listen to the Krishna sankirtans in the temple. She sang along when the chorus came and clapped her hands to the tune whenever she managed. Occasionally she would fill him up on the stories behind the various hymns that were sung.
One day, the teacher called Annapurna to inform her that Gopal had long outgrown primary education and that he would no longer be able be his educational guide. He strongly insisted that Gopal go to the high school situated on the other side of the forest. "I will personally speak to the headmaster if you want. You see, they have a provision to support economically weaker students, a measure I highly approve of." he said.
Annapurna was reluctant to let this happen, since Gopal was much too young in her opinion, much too weak. Also, he was the sole reason why she lived. Gopal was also unwilling to go to any place where his mother couldn't go.
However, they had to give in to the teacher's persistence.
So, one fine summer morning, Annapurna took out the best clothes she had in store (those, that had less than three pairs of wears and tears) and dressed him with the greatest care she could assemble with drops of water threatening to cascade down her cheeks any moment. She gave him a slate, a couple of chalks and tied a little red ribbon around his longish brown hair.
With that she let him go.
Gopal kept looking back at his mother, before finally turning to enter the way that led to the forest.
It was dark. Not a bit of the scorching sun penetrated the deep canopies of the ancient trees.
Down in the village, they said the place was haunted.
Pulling up his slate to cover his mouth, Gopal started walking. He was trembling all over. Twice, his things fell out of his hand. He quickly picked them up and continued. He kept chanting Raam naam, though he was not sure if such a feeble voice could keep away the dangerous spirits that dwelt amidst the darkness.
Thanks to his fear, on the first day, he reached late. His teachers did not say anything, but gave him a smile painted in scorn that effectively heightened his sense of vulnerability. He was not used to this.
During the lunch break, he greedily stared at the delicacies his classmates threw down in the gutter, but didn't dare tell them how hungry he was. They soon noticed him staring at them and cruelly made fun of him, an act in which no teacher bothered to interfere.
At the end of the day, his head pounding, he stood again to face the oppressive darkness of the wilds. This time he managed to cross the stretch holding on to the sole thought that soon, he would be back in his mother's arms.
Sure enough, as soon as he turned to the left, he saw his beautiful mother leaning on the bamboo stick that held their kuchcha house, waiting for him. When she cupped his face and planted a kiss on his forehead, to ask him how the day was, somehow, he didn't feel like telling her the truth.
.
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