Kolkata, West Bengal
During the hot season, our school used to start in the morning for a few days. At that time, we used to cross through the Battala market. The road was narrow. What attracted us more than that was the closed shops. There were so many types of shop doors. Some were shuttered, while others were closed with wooden planks. They had numbers written on them, and if the number didn’t match, it wasn’t properly closed. Iron grills or shutters hadn’t come yet.
While looking at all these, one day I saw a man sweeping the market. He had a long stick tied to the end of a coconut palm broom. Holding that stick, he was sweeping every alley. It never occurred to us that anyone swept the market. A few days later, it happened that we were passing through an alley and he was coming from the opposite direction, sweeping. I thought he might scold us this time. Because when my mother used to sweep at home, if we came in front of the broom, we would get scolded. But he didn’t scold us. He moved aside as if we were the owners of the road. Once we had passed, he would start sweeping again. At that age, it was a matter of great respect for us.
The summer vacation eventually ended. The monsoon had begun. One day, during this time, I saw that man at school. Vishu told me, “Look, that sweeping man.”
Deepu asked, “Who is the sweeping man? Just say it in one word. What do you call the person who sweeps?” He is called a sweeper.
A few days later, I learned that before our school started, the sweeper would clean our school. We would see that the school’s rooms and grounds were sparkling clean compared to before. We didn’t know that the sweeper’s son was studying with us. One day, when Prolay Sir scolded Bansi for not knowing math, he said, “Will you sweep like your father?” That’s when I learned that our Bansi was the son of that sweeper. They live beyond Bagdipara by the side of the canal. I saw that Bansi became quite dejected after Sir’s remark. Later, I told Bansi, “You didn’t tell me earlier that your father sweeps at school!”
Bansi said, “What’s there to say? My father sweeps the market, and he doesn’t earn much there…”
- “Doesn’t he do anything else?”
- “He used to work at a company. That has closed down.”
Since then, we used to help Bansi with various things. Some would give old pencils; others would give old diaries. Whenever we gave these, a smile would spread across his face.
We understood that Bansi tried hard but couldn’t succeed. He would falter somewhere. The math didn’t add up, spelling mistakes would happen, tenses would get mixed up. Sometimes he would say, “I can’t study more. After the Madhyamik exam, I’ll learn some trade.” We were then dreaming of college. We would go to college in a few years. Some were already dreaming of becoming doctors or engineers. Meanwhile, one of us was thinking of learning a trade to earn a living.
I said, “You try so hard, why not see what happens? If you pass well, why can’t you study further?”
Bansi wouldn’t say much. He knew that his father was poor. He never said that his father wouldn’t be able to bear the cost of his education. He covered his father’s incapability with silence.
One day, the school seemed to be different somehow. After a while, I realized - the sweeping hadn’t been done. Bansi was sitting in class. He said that his father had a fever, so he hadn’t come. At that time, our office peon, Shankar da, called Bansi and took him -- the Head Sir is calling.
A few of us followed Bansi. Standing outside the Head Sir’s room, we heard him scolding Bansi a lot -- why hadn’t his father come? I don’t know if Bansi mentioned the fever. Perhaps he didn’t get a chance to speak, or the Head Sir considered it just an excuse.
When Bansi came out, his face was grim. He was looking ahead but seemed not to be seeing anything in particular. His legs seemed to be shaking. He walked past us towards the teachers' room.
I said, “Where are you going, Bansi? Aren’t you going to class?”
- “You all go. I’ll come later.”
Meanwhile, the prayer bell rang. We stood in the field and sang the national anthem. Then we went to class.
The first class was Bengali. Tamal Sir was supposed to come. Looking in the direction he would come from, I saw Bansi sweeping the veranda with a broom. At that moment, a deep pain struck my heart and I couldn’t stay in class anymore. I ran out. I snatched the broom from Bansi’s hand and said, “Why are you sweeping? Let’s go to class.” Bansi burst into tears. Looking back, I saw Vishu, Deepu, and Prabhat standing there. Tamal Sir also stood watching us. He might have scolded us, but seeing Bansi’s tears, he didn’t say anything.
I said, “If sweeping needs to be done, we all will do it. Why should you do it alone?” Looking at Vishu, Deepu, and the others, I said, “Can you all manage to bring brooms from the nearby houses?”
Before they could answer, Bansi said, “I’m not ashamed of this work. I’m doing my father’s job.”
Vishu took Bansi’s hand and pulled him towards the class.
Almost everyone said together, “We are not ashamed either. We will sweep our school ourselves.”