I’m Pronoy. I live in a remote village area of Namkhana where the companions of most people, by day, is agriculture, and by night, light from kerosene lamps. My mother is an ICDS worker, my father makes furniture, my brother sometimes stays away from home for work, and sometimes grows vegetables in the field. My sister-in-law has qualified the P.T.F. for becoming a policewoman in the state government, and is currently preparing for her written exams.
I am the younger son in this family, and I am a second-year student under Kolkata University.
My childhood
When I was 5 years old, my father and his brother used to stay in a joint family system. I don’t know why, but all our relationships were strained at that point of time, and unrest in the family was a part of daily life. Baba used to hit out at Ma physically for the smallest of things. I remember going away to my maternal uncles’ house several times with Ma, crying and holding on to her sari. I used to hurt for Ma, yet I didn’t know what to say to Baba also. My world then was my only my neighbourhoood. And because my existence was bound by such narrow walls, I used to think that my father hurting my mother was perhaps natural.
In this way, my education started right from my mother’s kitchen. In primary school, in the breaks between study, I used to take apart the household electronics items to see what was inside. When my father came to catch me at it, I would run away. If I was scolded too much, I would stop eating. Then my parents would again resume being openly affectionate and cajole me to eat. Too much mollycoddling had made a mischievous monkey out of me. But in classes III and IV, I still managed to come first in class on a regular basis.
