You had been testing my patience for a while. You would either sit in class with a blank expression or you would be disturbing the ones sitting around you. I tried to be understanding, I really did. I knew you had a really low literacy level, you couldn't even write a full sentence in English. I figured that was the reason you were so uninterested( How many classes in pure Japanese would I want to attend?). I tried to talk to you after class, on multiple occasions. But you would just stare at me throughout my monologues and my questions, without a word and then just smile and say "Haan kal se padhungi" in the softest voice possible. Like a fool, I considered that a victory. I was convinced that THIS time you would try, try to learn. That's all I wanted from you.
I was disillusioned after the third cycle of this process. The whole class was writing and you hadn't even taken out your notebook! All the frustration came to the forefront,and I asked you to leave class.
I met you after class and this time I refused to be the one talking. I asked you about what you did at home after school. 10 minutes of silence followed. You realized that this time I wasn't going to let it go. You whispered, "khaana khati hoon". For the next 40 minutes, I asked one probing question after the other to find out what you did at home. 40 minutes and you would have said 100 words in response to my 2358994. What worried me most was your voice, or the lack of it. I asked you to call out to Swapneel Sir who was sitting at the other end of the class. You couldn't get yourself to even whisper his name for the first 5 minutes. It then took you 20 minutes and innumerable failed whispers to call out his name in a voice loud enough to make him look at you.
I visited your house soon after. I had pictured your life at home- a silent life and I was almost sure that you were abused at home. Your 12x12 home had more surprises in store than I had expected. I was welcomed SO warmly by your mother and your elder sisters, it didn't take me long to sense that you were loved. Your mother was boasting(very proudly) about your sisters' academic excellence achieved without tuition (and I know that's such a big deal!). Your sisters told me of how they tried teaching you time and again but you resisted, each time with new found stubbornness. Oh and the ladies in your house complained of how much you spoke! I was completely - :O at that. They told me of your obsession with dressing up. Of how you'd take your mother's dupattas and drape them around and model around. They told me of how you loved cleaning the house and cooking food. How you loved playing the loving,doting,uneducated housewife. And at that moment I realized HOW scared you were of studies. It wasn't just disinvestment, it was fear. And strangely, I felt very responsible for that.
While we were walking back, I told you about what a fashion designer does and how you could also be one someday. And for the first time, in the three months that I'd known you Zia, I saw your eyes light up.
