Riti was walking down the dirty alleys, finding them as heavy as she always found them. Never had she felt this strange, walking down these paths. A look at all the beaming faces peeping out of their homes to welcome her was her Albatross. This was what she had always wanted to do: work with the people who perhaps mattered the most to her! Or perhaps who Riti believed, mattered the most to her!
It was never easy to convince most people, why she wanted to be in Kolkata and work in the slums and the people there. But she had to come back to the city, which had made her what she was. Riti, the social worker, wanted to change lives, lives of the slum dwellers, not realizing that she did not have it in her to change realities of majority of the population, residing there. Riti had dreamt of brighter skies, smiling faces, a beautiful world where people get what they deserve…without having to fight for their rights. What she did not know, however was that she did not have it in her to realize her dreams.
And yet, this was perhaps the last time she was walking down these alleyways. This was her last assignment – she would have to document SPECIAL CASES. Each individual was a special case. An achievement, a mental boost for so-called social workers and activists who claim to change lives. The work ethics had taught Riti to empathize. EMPATHY!!! Empathize with the woman, all of 20, who is bearing her 4th child? Or empathize with the child who spends all his day, playing near the gutter with the dirtiest of animals? Or maybe empathize with the parents who live by the dirty drainage canals and yet nurture the impossible dream of educating their children? Or perhaps empathize with the teenager who earns his daily bread by selling stolen vegetables, on the railway platform?
And yet she hoped that one day the picture will change, the way they do in movies…in books…after all, they said, “When you want something, entire universe conspires in helping you to achieve it”.
But reality was a far cry. She had fought hard, she thought…but perhaps it was way beyond repair. Perhaps the world and all the people had become far more insensitive than Riti had expected them to be. Failed expectations almost always wreak havoc…and Riti Roy was no exception. Disillusioned, Devastated, Demotivated…she could use all the words in the dictionary to justify her escapism. It was always easy to say, “I could take it no longer”…but how about saying, “I want to see the end of this no matter what”? And she was not an exception. Nor did she have it in her to change the world…
Carefully dodging expectant queries from known faces, Riti finished her data collection and with the stench of wet leather still nauseating her, stepped out of where she had so wanted to belong. And just as she was turning the final bend that separated that world from the rest of the city, Riti felt a tug…turning back with utter disgust, expecting an-out-of-the place nail, she came face to face with Zohra…one of the many girls she had once saved from being trafficked.
“Wah Didi, aye aur jaa rahe ho…hum itne gair ho gaye?” (Great Didi, you came and now you are going…have we become such strangers?)
She looked at Zohra…a gorgeous dark girl of about 19. So full of life, so full of possibilities that even life should take a careful decision, when it came to her. She was about a year younger then, out of school and brimming with life. Just like the other young girls, she invited a lot of unnecessary attention from all quarters. Her father, a mason had died of an accident a year back and it was up to her mother to run whatever was left of the family, with her elder sister missing since the last 6 months and a younger brother to fend for. And yet Zohra was an optimist…she hoped her sister would return…she hoped she would become a doctor…she hoped life would be as beautiful as she had seen in the movies.
Zohra and Ameena were returning one night from a film show when a young man had approached her and offered a modelling assignment. Taken aback by the suddenness of the entire episode, she had asked for some time. Riti had come to the community centre to find an animated Zohra waiting to share the incident and seek consent. The queerness of the entire incident had shocked Riti and she decided to be with Zohra when she met the man again. That very day he appeared in the evening swearing on her gorgeous beauty, promised to take Zohra to Mumbai for a glittering future in modelling and in movies. Riti stood in the covers all this while, witness to the entire episode. A starry eyed Zohra would have been an easy prey for the man, traced and arrested a coupe of days later as a trafficker. Had it not been for Riti’s words of caution, Zohra would have been a part of the growing flesh trade. She had listened to the conversation, as she stood hidden and it had taken her seconds to realize the trap that this naïve girl with a headfull of dreams was being unable to fathom. For some strange reason, Zohra had fortunately chosen to trust Riti.
Riti stepped out her memories and said with a smile, “Zohra…Kitni khubsoorat lag rahi ho! Shohar bahut khush rakhta hoga!” (You look so pretty! Your husband must be keeping you very happy!)
A strange smile spread across Zohra’s pretty face as she softly said, “Haan didi, par bas ek nahi…bahut saare…par aapne toh ek ko bhi nahi dekha!!” (Yes, didi,…but not just one…but many…but you didin’t see even one of them!)
Riti had spent many a sleepless night crying over her failure, blamed herself for months for running away from what was expected of her…but nothing had hit her as harshly as did a few casual words from this young girl. Riti, the Social Worker stood there speechless.
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