Sounds are drifting in from far, far away.
Granny, here’s the chocolate wrapper in your hand. You fell asleep holding the pieces. Give them to me, put them in my hand.
Shruti, one could call her Shrutidebi too. So many thoughts are playing in her mind. Her mind says no, no; but she feels as if she is lying on the waves of the wind. Voices are floating all around her. She tries to catch the images that come drifting to her with full concentration.
A little way off stands her son Nirmal, daughter-in-law Nikita, grandson Nayon, a doctor... perhaps a doctor... wearing a long white coat! Overcoat? No, no! That must be an apron… a couple of others are there too. They are all talking.
The difference in time zones, along with adjusting to a new environment, all of it together makes this quite an experience.
It will get better. If she wants to have her favorite juice and soup, give her that.
The white apron slowly fades into the air. Everyone gathers around the bed again.
Granny, wrappers and non-paper waste should go in a separate bin. Paper should be placed in another bin. You don’t have to get up. I’m here for you!
‘Yes, my dear, you are here. I am at ease,’ thinks Granny. A few days pass like this, drifting in and out of sleep for Nayon’s grandmother.
A Few Days Later
Nayon returns home from school. He puts his bag on the shelf and runs straight to sit beside Shrutidebi.
Are you feeling better today?
Yes. Can you show me where to throw the paper?
Shrutidebi, Nayon’s Granny, smiles. But she keeps an expression as if she is taking an exam. A soft shadow of confusion plays across her face.
Oh, Granny, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You were unwell, so if you don’t remember, I’ll tell you again.
Just tell me, dear. Let me hear it once more. The chances of making a mistake will be lower.
Nayon laughs. His enthusiasm deserves praise. Without delay, he begins to explain.
Look here, this is the bin... open the lid. See, in this one, Mamma has thrown leftover food waste. This one is only for paper. This one is for plastic waste. And this one is for broken glass. From now on, keep these in mind when you throw something away.
That’s it? Nothing else?
Nayon looks at Granny, surprised.
What happened, dear? Say something?
After a brief silence, Nayon speaks again.
Here, people are very clean and organized. They follow certain rules. For example, flowers and fruits grow along the streets, but people don’t even touch them. They exist as they are, in their own space.
There’s no custom of offering flowers for worship here. Nayon chuckles.
People go to church. There, flowers and fruits aren’t used.
If someone needs flowers, they buy them.
Now, it’s Granny’s turn to laugh. Nayon continues speaking.
No one litters the streets here. They do their household chores themselves. Tree branches trimmed from gardens are left at designated spots, and later, municipal workers come to collect them. And besides, no one speaks loudly. Everyone follows road traffic rules.
I know a story too.
What story? Tell us, Granny, tell us.
That day, I went to the city with you all.
Yes.
Then I saw a little boy trying to throw his food packet into a dustbin. Just as he was about to leave, he noticed that the packet hadn’t gone in. He came back, pressed the lid, and the paper slipped inside. Then? The boy, feeling assured, walked away with his mother.
They teach us these things in school. To put things in their proper place, to do our work ourselves, and not to make playgrounds dirty. You should visit our school someday; you’ll like it. We help our teachers with gardening.
Our lessons begin with environmental awareness.
Huh? Environmental awareness? What’s that, Nayon?
Everything I just said... following rules on the road, keeping gardens clean, doing your work yourself... We aren’t just reading these things in books, we are practicing them, learning through experience. That is what we call environmental awareness or understanding.
You taught me something, and I taught you something in return.
Granny smiled brightly.
Poet Rabindranath Tagore once said… "Dibe aar nibe, milabe milibe" (Give and take, blend and unite). You told me about your new country, and I told you about the words of the great poet. How was that?
Nayon’s grandfather was listening to everything while walking in the garden.
Nayon, dear, can you tell me something?
What is it, Grandpa?
How many houses are there in your area?
Around thirty to thirty-five houses.
And in these thirty to thirty-five houses, how many people are there? Maybe three per house, at most five? You’ve learned multiplication, right? Tell me, how many people would that be?
Nayon couldn’t answer right away. His grandfather smiled and gave him time. Closing his eyes, Nayon counted with his fingers and said—
One hundred and fifty... Something like that.
Correct. Now, listen. In our villages, the population is nearly eight to ten times that. Isn’t it very difficult to keep an eye on everything? That’s why we must wait for the day when our country too will become as clean and beautiful.
Nayon smiled, looking at his grandfather and then at Granny.
He gazed at the blue sky, watching an airplane fly by. The chirping birds painted the picture of a new day.
Then, in the bright sunshine, he ran towards the ball lying on the lawn and kicked it with all his might.