Shreeparna Chatterjee - End Term Assignment (Self Reflective Essay and Prompt 2)

Laal Dewaal (1)

-          Shreeparna Chatterjee

-          M.A. Literary Art (1^st Year)

“Money raakhish, laal dewaal’er opaare jaash na. Okhaaney laal bhoot eshey tokay uthiye niye jaabe.” (2)

Almost once or twice every week, my thamma (3) would tell me this story before bed, leaving me scared shitless of this laal dewaal and the horrors that lay on the other side of it. And even though she never specified who this ‘bhoot’ was, I knew it was the para’r kakima (4) with her big black bindi that covered her entire forehead and who always spoke like she had something in her mouth. Her son played Badminton with me in the colony park and he was horrible at it. But he was nice otherwise, and he and I would often go and buy shingara (5) from Dadu’s (6) cutlet shop, after our games as a snack. The worst was when, if by mistake we got caught eating the shingara by kakima, she’d always tell my maa (7) and thamma, and then when I came home, I’d get a solid bokaani (8) from both of them. I did not like kakima one bit. She had to be the bhoot that Thamma kept scaring about.

One night, when thamma was telling me the story about the laal dewaal once again, I stopped her in the middle and asked her “Thamma, laal dewaal’er opaare ki aachhe?” (9)

She smiled and said “Keno re, tuyi ki opaare jetey chaash?” (10)

I nodded my head readily in agreement.

She then said “Taaholey shon, laal dewaal’er opaare ekta laal bhoot aache jey tokey dekheyi, ghop kore dhore nebey. Aar tuyi okhaan thekey aar kokkhuno phirey aashtey paarbi na.” (11)

The way she said it, I was too scared to ask her anything else. So I just kept quiet, listened to her finish the story and went to sleep. Couple of weeks passed by, but my curiosity wouldn’t let me get my full night’s sleep unless I found out what was happening behind that laal dewaal.

My birthday was in a few months’ time and I was patiently just counting days till the D day arrived. This birthday was special. I was finally turning 13 and I had maa promise that she’d finally let me wax my legs. I had legs like a bhaaloo (12) which were fine in the winter season, but during summers I would constantly get made fun off because of my hairy legs. All the other girls had perfectly smooth legs and I started dreading my school uniform just because of the skirt I had to wear.

I did think of using baba’s (13) razor to shave my legs but then my friend told me that if I shaved my legs once, the hair would grow out TWICE AS THICK! So I used my birthday privilege to beg maa to let me get my legs properly waxed from a parlour. She agreed, but only after a lot of pleading and me following my curfew time of coming back from the park and my birthday was decided to be the day I went to the parlour and finally had my dreams come true.

The months leading up to my birthday passed by as slowly as time possibly could make them. I could not wait to flaunt my newly waxed legs at school and walk the corridors without being called a bhaaloo. Finally, I woke up on the day of my birthday. I was so excited that I jumped out of the bed and started yelling around the house “Aami aajke wax koraabo, aami aajke wax koraabo!” (14)

But my joy of hair removal was short lived. My thamma had heard my exclamations from the other room. She practically yelled back, making no efforts to conceal her rage “Ki? Ki bolli tuyi? Ki koraabi bolli?” (15)

Before I could even think of the damage my excitement had done, maa came rushing into the room and grabbed hold of my arm and yanked it hard, speaking at me through gritted teeth “Ki dorkaar chhilo tor eyi kotha taa chechiye bolaa’r?” (16)

I didn’t know what my mistake was but I hung my head low in shame and walked out to face the music.

Thamma was waiting for me in our drawing room and her scowl said everything before she even opened her mouth. Maa went ahead, walked closer to thamma and said “Maamoni, o amaake onek din dhorey birokto kore maarchhey eyitaa’r jonne. Aami aar okey dhore raakhtey paarlaam na.” (17) Thamma nodded at maa and then looked directly at me and said “Tuyi dekhenish, tokey laal dewaal’er bhoot ghop kore dhore niye jaabey, khoob shiggiri.” (18)

As terrified as I was hearing that, I had the authority of an official teenager now. There was no bhoot or anything that could scare me now, I was too old for these things now. At least that’s what I was convincing myself with. But for all that drama and roaring in the morning, I finally did get my legs waxed. And boy, did I love it.

I had a dress picked out specially for my birthday and knowing that the promise that maa made to me would be fulfilled the same day, I went all out. I didn’t care that thamma didn’t talk to me or stayed in her room throughout my birthday party, when all my friends were over. I was over the moon and I felt beautiful. I was getting lots of compliments for my dress, and even kakima said that my dress was very nice. Any fear of bhoot or the laal dewaal disappeared in the merry-making of my special day.

Finally, the party was over and everyone had left our house. I was left with presents, left over party food and my smooth legs. I was so tired that I not only didn’t open any of my gifts but also didn’t bother changing out of the dress I wore for the party. I wanted to rest and remember this day in my dreams. I was feeling bad that thamma was still angry at me and I thought I’ll go to her before I got in bed. But as I went to her, I saw her lights were already off and I could hear her snoring loudly. “Maybe tomorrow morning she’ll be calmer” I thought to myself.

I changed out of the dress (maa would not let me sleep in it under any circumstances), brushed my teeth, put on a pair of shorts to keep feeling my legs through the night and got in bed. As soon as I shut my eyes…

“Tor thamma tokey bole ni, laal dewaal’er opaare bhoot aache?” (19)

“Tumi key? Tumi ki kore jaano amaar thamma ke?” (20)

“Tuyi kintu ekdum thik korli na, nijer thamma’r kotha na shuney. Ey baar tokey ghop kore dhore niye jaabo, jaatey tokey keyu khujey na paaye.” (21)

“Na, na please. Amaake chhedhey daao. Aami baari jetey chaayi. Aami aar khokhuno thamma’r shaath jhogdaa korbo na. Please amaake chhedhey daao!” (22)

“Tuyi jaanish na, shudhu shaada rong’er raja, shaada ghora chorey eshey, sheyi tokey amaar theke chaariye niye jetey paarbey. Ekhaane toh kono shaada raja’o neyi aar kono shaada ghora’o neyi.” (23)

“I’m here child! Don’t fear! I’m here to save you!”

“Are you the same?..”

“Yes. I’ll make sure you’re safe and you get home. Jump on my horse and we’ll ride away from this place.”

I got on his horse, and we rode away far away from laal dewaal. I was relieved and I finally smiled. As the horse ran faster and faster, I had to hold on to him for balance. And as I held him by the waist, I saw my whole body had turned red. I was dripping in red from head to toe. His clothes had become red in the places I touched them. The horse’s body was red where I sat. But he didn’t seem to notice, he rode without looking anywhere else. We finally stopped in front of my house and both of us got off. I looked at him and the mess I had made of his clothes, his horse and began sobbing. He put an arm on my red shoulders and immediately turned red himself, but he didn’t seem to mind and he smiled at me instead.

“Now, if ever the bhoot comes back, don’t worry. I’ll always come to rescue you. You just need to remember me in your mind and I’ll come around.”

I nodded, not understanding what had happened and saw him ride away.

“Baba oth ebaar. (24) It’s almost 10 o’ clock. How much longer will you sleep?” I heard maa’s voice in the background. I turned around in my bed and I felt something odd with myself.

I got up, pulled the sheets away from me and there it was. Red. Laal dewaal’er bhoot really did come here.

“Maaaaa! Come here! Maa, the bhoot was here. Laal dewaal’er bhoot eshey chhilo.” (25)

Maa came into my room, confused by what I was yelling at her and then she looked at what had happened. A big red splotch on my blue bed sheet. Her face turned from confused to concerned. Then immediately, everything started happening.

I was asked to get up and go take a bath immediately. Meanwhile, maa pulled the bed sheet away from the mattress, bundled it up and went to her room, coming back with a green rectangle plastic bag. It looked filled with something and just as I was about to ask maa what she was holding, she instructed me to go take a bath first and then come back. I did as I was told, and strangely enough during my bath I saw no more red anywhere. I dried myself, wore my clothes and came out to find maa waiting for me on a new bedsheet.

I sat down and before I could tell her about my dream, she handed me a green square of something and said “Beta, what just happened to you happens to every girl in her life. Happened to me, happened to your thamma as well. This is a sign that you’re growing up and your body is going through some changes. Now, you’ll have this thing happening to you every month, it’ll last for 5 days or so and it may hurt your belly and back once in a while. But be very careful about your hygiene in these days. You’ll need to change these every 4-5 hours and dispose them in a newspaper wrapping. What I’m giving you are called pads but there’s other kinds of stuff to help you not ruin your clothes, your undergarments and things like that. So don’t worry about it, this is a normal natural process of your body maturing and turning you into a woman.”

I looked at the green plastic covered pad and opened it. It was wrapped like parcel, taped together. The tapes came off surprisingly easy and it unfolded with two flaps on the side. It looked like something I’d seen in T.V ads. But they always used a blue fluid in those ads and I thought how could this be used to do anything? I asked maa to show me how to put it on. She brought out a pair of underwear from my cupboard and wrapped on the part that rests in between my legs. Once I saw how it was done, I was asked to go change into that pair and give the pair I was wearing for washing.

I went into the bathroom to change and as I pulled off my underwear, I saw more splotches of red. I put on the new pair with the pad on them, and they immediately felt itchy and uncomfortable. Would I always have this feeling between my legs? What did maa mean when she said “turning me into a woman”? I had a lot of questions.

But before anything else, I had to go and tell thamma the dream of the laal bhoot and shaada raja.

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Footnotes (Translations):

1.      Laal Dewaal - Red Wall

2.      “Money raakhish, laal dewaal’er opaare jaash na. Okhaaney laal bhoot eshey tokay uthiye niye jaabe” - “Remember, don’t go on the other side of the red wall. The red ghost will come and take you away”

3.      Thamma – Grandmother

4.      Para’r kakima – Colony’s aunt

5.      Shingara – Samosa

6.      Dadu’s – Grandfather’s

7.      Maa – Mother

8.      Bokaani – Scolding

9.      “Thamma, laal dewaal’er opaare ki aachhe?” – “Grandmother, what lies on the other side of the red wall?”

10.  “Keno re, tuyi ki opaare jetey chaash?” – “Why, do you want to go to the other side?”

11.  “Taaholey shon, laal dewaal’er opaare ekta laal bhoot aache jey tokey dekheyi, ghop kore dhore nebey. Aar tuyi okhaan thekey aar kokkhuno phirey aashtey paarbi na.” – “Then listen, on the other side of the red wall, there’s a ghost who’ll take you away the moment it sees you. And you’ll never be able to come back.”

12.  Bhaaloo – Bear

13.  Baba’s – Father’s

14.  “Aami aajke wax koraabo, aami aajke wax koraabo!” – “I’m going to get waxed today, I’m going to get waxed today!”

15.  “Ki? Ki bolli tuyi? Ki koraabi bolli?” – “What? What did you say? What are you getting done?”

16.  “Ki dorkaar chhilo tor eyi kotha taa chechiye bolaa’r?” – “Why did you have to say this?”

17.  “Maamoni, o amaake onek din dhorey birokto kore maarchhey eyitaa’r jonne. Aami aar okey dhore raakhtey paarlaam na.” – “Mother, she was troubling me for a long time for this. I couldn’t hold her back anymore.”

18.  “Tuyi dekhenish, tokey laal dewaal’er bhoot ghop kore dhore niye jaabey, khoob shiggiri.” – “You see, the red wall’s ghost is going to take you away, very soon.”

19.  “Tor thamma tokey bole ni, laal dewaal’er opaare bhoot aache?” – “Didn’t your grandmother tell you, there’s a ghost on the other side of the red wall?”

20.  “Tumi key? Tumi ki kore jaano amaar thamma ke?” – “Who are you? How do you know my grandmother?”

21.  “Tuyi kintu ekdum thik korli na, nijer thamma’r kotha na shuney. Ey baar tokey ghop kore dhore niye jaabo, jaatey tokey keyu khujey na paaye.” – “You didn’t do the right thing at all, by not listening to your grandmother. I will take you away so that no one can ever find you.”

22.  “Na, na please. Amaake chhedhey daao. Aami baari jetey chaayi. Aami aar khokhuno thamma’r shaath jhogdaa korbo na. Please amaake chhedhey daao!” – “No, no please. Let me go. I want to go home. I’ll never argue with my grandmother again. Please let me go!”

23.  “Tuyi jaanish na, shudhu shaada rong’er raja, shaada ghora chorey eshey, sheyi tokey amaar theke chaariye niye jetey paarbey. Ekhaane toh kono shaada raja’o neyi aar kono shaada ghora’o neyi.” – “Don’t you know, only a white coloured king, riding a white horse, only he can take you away. There’s no white king or white horse here.”

24.  “Baba oth ebaar.” – “Baba, get up now.”

25.  “Maaaaa! Come here! Maa, the bhoot was here. Laal dewaal’er bhoot eshey chhilo.” – “Mother! Come here! Mother, the ghost was here. The ghost of the red wall came.”

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Self-Reflective Essay: Ways of Reading

-          Shreeparna Chatterjee

-          M.A Literary Arts (First Year)

My journey at Ambedkar University began with an interview where I was introduced to all my future professors, who I hoped at the time, would teach me if I got selected for the programme. Lo and Behold, I did and I found myself in an environment where texts, authors and reading was analysed, studied and reflected on with a sincerity that I had never encountered before. At first, it was intimidating coming into a place where not only a lot of other people knew a lot more than I did, but also being asked to think critically and deeply about what we were doing in class was too big a field to run in directionless, for my Bachelors trained mind.

However, amidst all this was the Ways of Reading class where I was taught a variety of things ranging from poetry to non-fiction. There was never an opportunity to get bored or become repetitive in the kind of material that we were reading. And each and every form that we studied, the class would always take it into so many different and unexpected tangents, some of which were very important real-life conversations and some which were just ridiculous banter, all of it, welcome nonetheless.

As the name of the class suggests, I was looking at different forms and how to read into their nuances that as an ordinary reader, one might not pay enough attention to. Right from the intended effects of a line-break to why an author used a particular word to describe something, I was introduced to ways of looking and interacting with a text outside of just reading and deriving a moment’s pleasure from it. It was challenging but rewarding, especially because the class was a free space to discuss any and every idea that I had, without any judgement. This exercise of exploring, critiquing and getting almost hands-on with a text encouraged me to not give up on texts which were relatively denser and difficult to grasp and to keep reading to make it easier. The time we were taught poetry was a particularly impactful one for me. I always thought of poetry being a strike of inspiration in the poet’s mind and beautiful lines just blossoming out of thin air. However, the sessions taught me the thought, the hard work and the smartness of writing the way poets do, and the effect they intend for the reader/listener to have.

A workshop held by Aditi Rao for our class during the poetry sessions was something that stayed with me long after the classes got over. The dialogue and exercises done in those classes were so interesting to me, especially the exercise done for free writing in a given time limit. It was wonderful to just write and race my mind without having to think.

Another example of something that was discussed in class, and which particularly moved me and my thinking was the stress on writing from our contexts. I, too used to want to erase my sense of background and context in fear that it would appear too personal or too much of ‘me’ for the reader or listener to be able to enjoy it. But I found that the shying away from one’s context always produces content that is superficial and not authentic at all. The erasure of context doesn’t benefit either the writer or the reader/listener. I learnt to recognize that the richness that my own background and my own language/languages provides, is something to be appreciated and celebrated through my writing and not kept tucked in between hidden pages.

Through these classes, I learnt that I gave too much credit to what I imagined, were flashes of inspiration in writers and their ‘natural talent’ for writing for them to be able to write such delightful material and I too could write like that, as soon as ideas hit me from nowhere. However, this belief of mine met a welcome turning over as I learnt to read in between the lines for what so many writers, artists and poets have worked hard for. The craft of writing, the power of affect and encouragement for other people that it can have made me realize the responsibility of writing after thorough reading and understanding of the matters that I write on. The learning here has made me much open and aware of my own self as a writer in the making and I’m glad to have been a part of these classes and the refreshing opinions, perspectives and ideas it brought to me.