It was almost lunch time when we reached Chirakuti Ashram. Stainless steel plates were lined up along the floor. We dropped our belongings, washed our hands and found a place to sit behind the row of plates. Prayers were chanted in unison once everyone was seated. One of the girls who lived and studied at the ashram served the food. Vegetables grown at the ashram found their way to our plates. We could dispose off the left-outs at a designed spot in the premises for the ducks to feed. After lunch, I wandered about in the premises, observing the variety of plants that grew here and identifying the ones that have been added to the swaying mass of greenery since I came here the last time.
A little before dusk, we trotted to the village market to buy chicken and vegetables. The vendors sat cross-legged on the earth, their wares arranged on the cloths spread out before them. We walked to our familiar telebhaja stall. The oven was nothing but a hole in the ground. Inside the kadai, fries sizzled in the oil. The baskets placed upon the counter were heaped with these crispy fries. These were made of some leaves that had been dipped in a batter of besan. Among the other things that caught my interest were ear-rings and bangles that shone among all the other wares displayed on the cloths a few feet away from me.
By the time we left the market, the sun had sunk behind the trees, tinting the sky with orange. Soon the trees were hooded with darkness; the empty paddy fields by the roadside hid under a black veil. Back in the ashram, we sipped tea and got ready for the evening prayers.
A temple dedicated to Sri Ramkrishna, Ma Sarada and Swami Vivekananda had been erected recently in the ashram compound. Swapan Maharaja, the founder of the ashram commenced the prayers by singing a hymn. Besides the children who lived at the ashram, some other villagers also attended the prayers. The hymn was followed by other hymns. I was happy to find my daughter, who was very naughty by nature, sitting quietly and playing a cymbal to the rhythm of the songs.
This was November and we had celebrated Kali Puja just a few weeks back, when we had set aside some fireworks for the ashram children. After the prayers it was time to take them out of their boxes. Soon, fountains of light erupted in the garden and red and green smoke draped the upper branches of the shrubs. As the crackle of the sparklers and other fireworks came to an end, mats were unrolled on the floor of the corridor in front of Maharaja's room. The children sat down with their textbooks, exercise copies and stationary. Centuries of social apathy and discrimination had condemned them to darkness. We tried to assist them to understand and learn the lessons taught at school. It is not easy to chip away an inter-generational scourge, but the efforts made by Swapan Maharaja and other noble people show that dedication and perseverance are bound to bring positive results. After studies, everyone was treated to a meal of rice, vegetables and delicious chicken curry from the chicken we brought from the market that evening.
The next day, we helped the children with their studies in the morning before having our breakfast of puffed rice and ghoogni. The ashram children plucked oranges from a tree in the premises and took them to the pond. Subhadip (my husband) and our daughter accompanied them. They sat beside the water body, peeled and salted the fruits, and ate them. Then the ashram kids scrubbed themselves with a soap, bathed and frolicked in the water, swimming, floating and immersing themselves in its cool depths.
The activities of the ashram are listed in my 1st post about it:- http://theserpentacursedrhyme.blogspot.com/2018/11/a-trip-to-belpahari.html
