This story is of a girl from the slums of bengal. If you are interested to look up, this is a state in India and this story is based in Kolkata “the city of joy” as people call it. I dont know why people would call it that because amongst all the poverty and daily struggles, not a lot of joy is remenant in the lives of common man in the city.

Anyway, I got side tracked. This girl is born in the city og joy and her first memories are of crowded places, smoke from the cheap earthen oven, drunk people playing cards on the busy and dark streets, children with no money gathering around sweet shop hoping to get some left overs, poorly clad women fighting over water and darkness…..She was born in one of the many slums in Kolkata.

Her parents always had a smile on their faces and were grateful to have survived the partition of India. They had left all they had created in Bangladesh and were forced to move over to “Hindustan” and were settled in a refugee slum. They still smiled at how lucky they were to have a roof over their head while others were struggling for their lives. The lives that become meaningless when hatred and war dominate the world.

Her father had a little shop selling groceries but most of the shelves were empty. No one had money to buy a lot so he had no reason to stock inventory. He had a family of 4 to feed and they lived in a tiny room with a roof made of asbestos.

There was darkness all around. The government did not think it was important to provide facilities to the refugees even 20 years after independance. It was 1967 and she was 7 years old.

She saw her father stand outside the shops which had just started selling Television sets and gathered a lot of curious rich people and watch in fascination.

The smiling face of her mother and her kindness and compassion was the only light in her life apart from the scarce street lights which only worked occassionaly.

One day in 1974, when she was 13 years old, she was given some money to buy basic food to feed the family for the day. She always loved it when that happened. She told me the reason why..

The way to the market went through a street which had government accomodations on both sides of the road, These were houses where regular government officials lived. She always thought they were big people, rich and happy. All the houses looked the same and so did the people. They looked clean and as though they had eaten 3 meals in a day which she loved imagining. She was used to one meal a day and on some lucky days 2. However, that was not what really fascinated her. What fascinated her was the lights inside their houses. How does it feel?.. she would wonder. Sometimes, she would sit on the side of the road and fantasise living in one of those houses. She would imagine her mother cooking in one of those fancy looking autoatics ovens under the light. She would imagine sitting on a rug and studying under the light and not having to study under the street lights with zillions of insects hovering over her head, She imagined how it would feel to switch the lights on. She had seen one of those magic switches.

When no one was watching, she would try to sneak a peak under the curtains from outside the gate to see how the room looks when lit..

Her only dream was to grow up to live in a house like that and look like those people. She wanted to see her mother smile under those lights. ” I cant see it well in the candle light” she thought.

It all seemed unachievable but it kept her going. She would always be eager to go to the market and no one but her knew why..

She completed school, university studying under those street lights with the hovering insects as companions. She had the vision.

From the first time she saw the vision to the first time she switched on the lights in her own house. it was a long 10 year journey and it took a lot of interesting life events to make that possible which we will know later on, but she did it.

Nothing is impossible – she said… it just takes time and patience and listening to the heart.

Sometimes what we take for granted is what someone is striving and struggling hard for… always be grateful.