Chapter Fourteen

The End of a Chapter

I broke the news of my impending journey to my friends the day I got my new set of clothes. It came out of the blue for them and created quite a stir. The Ladies’ Committee of Kottathala called a quick meeting to organise a send-off for me. I was invited to a formal farewell function the following Sunday evening. The leave-taking was simple, one with no fuss. No photographs were taken nor was any money spent on the function itself but I did receive a gift from the ladies. They had bought me a framed painting of some flowers in a vase. My eyes still fill up when I think of how money was so hard to come by at that time and yet how the ‘Samajam’ members had contributed to buy something for me. Only a couple of ladies used to earn a regular salary. The rest of them depended on selling vegetables, coconuts or other farm produce to make some money. When I saw my friends cry at the pain of our parting, the gravity of my decision overcame me and I broke down as well.  

It was a highly emotional evening. I was naturally desolate at the idea of leaving Pankajakshi. Chechi used to liken us to a pair of inseparable pigeons. The ‘Mahila Samajam’ had been a result of the joint vision Pankajakshi and I had had for our village and going away felt as if I was leaving my baby behind. As I looked at the committee members of the ‘Samajam’, I felt a sense of accomplishment and pride. Here were extremely committed, hard-working women who came from humble backgrounds and made time to work for a common cause despite their personal, daily struggles to make ends meet. With God’s grace and the efforts of its members the ‘Samajam’ had already made its presence felt, and much sooner than we had expected. 

Our work had already brought the first official post box to Kotthathala. Unfortunately, since this milestone had been accomplished by women, the young men of the village took umbrage at being worsted and decided to belittle our work. A few days after its arrival in the village, they picked up the letter box and hung it from a banyan tree near the upper temple. Early in the morning the young men strutted around the area trying to gauge what reaction this would bring from the ladies. Thankfully, the local shopkeepers and the temple committee workers took it upon themselves to rectify this misdeed and got to work quickly. They found the boys responsible for this and warned them about possible police action for tampering with government property. The older men reprimanded them and set the box back in its place without the ladies having to say or do anything. For us it was heartening to see that not only had our efforts been fruitful, but that we also had the support of the elders in the village. Very soon after I left Kotthathala, a sub Post Office was officially set up in our village.  People no longer had to travel to the Post office in Kottarakara. I didn’t know then that our work still in its nascent stage would go on to have a meaningful impact but I derived immense satisfaction from the fact that the ‘Mahila Samajam’ would be nurtured by the community at large. That was how I said my goodbyes to the village, the ‘Samajam’, my neighbours, my friends, my family and my home. The farewell I got had been a major event and the day I left; the whole village came out to see me off. 

My things were packed in a heavy, old, metal trunk that we had lying around at home. I had packed two sets of clothes including two pairs of inner wear, two blouses and two ‘pavadas’ or skirts; a ‘thorthu’ or a poplin towel given by Amma, my SSC and qualification certificates and a comb that I was using. I had neither a purse nor money to keep in it. I would be travelling with my brothers who had jobs and so Amma considered it unnecessary to ask if I needed some money for my own expenses. I would have to be grateful if someone was kind enough to even offer me a cup of tea on the journey. I would most likely not have choices for some time to come. This was the understanding with which I left my home. Around that time, the main picture of the deity at home, which was of Lord Krishna sitting on a rock, had started to fray. Amma had just had this picture replaced and I had picked up the discarded picture and carried it with me as I set out for Bombay. 

The journey to Bombay meant travelling to Ernakulam by bus and then by train to the city of my dreams. There was no direct train to Bombay in those days. Two bogies of the train were ear-marked for Bombay. This train would stop at Arakkonam in Madras where these two bogies would be uncoupled and then attached to a train going to Bombay the next day. We would reach our destination on day three.  This meant spending a night in the compartment left standing on the railway tracks. Normally people would step out and find food or a place to have a bath, wander around and come back to the compartment where they’d have reserved their places. However, we did not leave the compartment although my brothers did step out to eat and get some fresh food for us. The next morning, the train for Bombay arrived and our wagons were attached to it and we embarked on what would be literally and metaphorically the longest journey of my life. It was also a giant leap towards the fulfilment of my dreams.