She bid me farewell and waved. She did not say me a word, but it was what I realized her inner heart wanted to utter. She just kept smiling, standing at the edge of her front yard.
I waved back, but said nothing, just as she did.
Kanchi, as they called her, was a pretty little girl of 9. I met her in Bhumidada, a village situated in Karnali district. I was there, along with three other friends to collect different data of students from the village schools. All of us loved social works. With the motto of serving people, especially from remote villages, we had assembled together, back in 2005, to establish a social service organization.
On my journey to Bhumidada, I was fed up with the hassles that had come into my way. But, as soon as I got there, I found it to be a picturesque place, so I helped myself take its photo saving it into my heart.
The scenes had made an impression on me. Something more impressive was unnoticed in the villagers by me. Their hospitability was compelling one. They had no cell phones, separate lavatories and televisions but they were the most amicable beings I’d ever met.
Bhumi Bal Mandir was the first school we visited. The principal, a short stout man in his mid forties welcomed us with a cheerful countenance in his face. It was one of the most pleasant greetings we had ever been given. We talked to teachers and some students.
It was the same school Kanchi was admitted to. Her parents had not attended school but were as much aware to send her for studies. Furthermore, she was a smart girl and had her own vision for future.
The day we were in her school, she was one of those students whom I had talked intimately. She responded frankly that she was happy to be sent school let alone that particular school. Her personality, even at that tender age, was astounding. I had fixed my eyes on her from that day.
On the fourth day of my stay in that village, I had gone to that same school to check the students’ records. I had one of the teachers write the birth date of each student for me. Others records like their activities in school, pass rates and grades had been collected too. That day, I had to return early to get the records of students of other schools too. While I stepped out of the common office that all teachers used, I was surprised to find Kanchi there. She was pulling my shirt sleeve, asking me to stay in her home tonight. We were four people, so I denied her saying that it would be difficult to accommodate. But her persistence left no way in front of us than going to her home.
Kanchi was an epitome of her family. Her mother, father and younger brother welcomed us all. They were not shy people, rather spoke friendly to all of us. They always welcomed guests in their house, as they said. Kanchi had told her parents about all of us and her conversation with me. Then, they asked her to welcome us home. This had brought us to Kanchi’s modest house for stay.
Finishing our conversation with her parents, which lasted for about an hour, we went upstairs. I had brought all the records which I had collected that day. Me, along with my friends poured deep into examining and evaluating the records.
There came a call from Kanchi to get down to the kitchen for dinner. We all went down and climbed up after dining.
I was evaluating the age of each student. Still engaged in it, I came across Kanchi’s name. Ironically, I got that the day after was her birthday. The family seemed not to notice it; or what would have they done to celebrate her birthday, even if they had remembered it?
I collected all my papers, reassembled them, and put them back into my bag. Kanchi’s parents had shown us all a single room, but we were satisfied with it. Her father came to us to say us good night, and begged us sorry for that small uncomfortable room. We all replied that we were proud being there. As he went out, we all slept managing some space.
I went to the village market at about 8 am next morning. It was the last day of my stay in that village. Thinking that it would be better to gift her some study materials, I bought her a greeting card, two dozen copies and five story books. I got them wrapped, and returned Kanchi’s home with a plastic bag dangling from my hand. My friends did not know about her birthday and certainly not about that wrapped pack.
We packed up all our belongings, and dressed up well for return. Soon, we were in front of Kanchi’s house. All the family members were present there. Her parents bid us farewell, and wished for our safe journey.
Kanchi was there, clutching her mother’s left hand. I looked at her. She was gazing at me, as if she had realized that we would not return and it was her last chance to look at us. I stepped forward, reached near Kanchi, and stood on my knees. I gave her the greeting card with exquisitely carved words “Happy Birthday to you.” She gasped looking at it. Then, I presented her the birthday present, looking at which she gaped. I looked into her eyes and thought that tear drops would trickle down her cheeks, but she made hold of herself. She hugged me while I was still on my knees.
As I stood up, I looked at Kanchi’s parents, and found them awestruck with what had just happened. Their face had always said me to stay there longer, but I had to go. With our final ‘goodbye’, we left the family, the house and the village.
And, till date, I remember that event and my stay in that village.
I miss her so bad!!!
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