Echoes Of The Past-Doon Valley

Doon Valley is a storehouse of peerless and interesting history. Cuddled in the mountain ranges of the Himalayas, this valley is more than a paradise. My friends and I were in our teens when we sat for our exams for the final year of graduation. Generally, it took two to three months for the results to be released. So, we had a long holiday ahead, and how to spend the days, each of us cracked our heads.

Nisha’s uncle was a teacher at the Rashtriya Indian Military School, and so one day we went around to see the school as well as the cadet’s training. It was our group of three, Nisha, Pritha, and me. The next week we went to visit 'the thousandfold spring’, Sahastradhara'. This is a good picnic spot and is known for the sulfur springs. We boarded the bus from the main bus stand, and then it took us about two hours to reach the spot. Here we met our other college friends, a few boys and girls. So, now it was a big group enjoying themselves.

Our next visiting place was, ‘the Malsi Deer Park’. This place is known for Wildlife sightseeing and is a lovely picnic spot. We visited a few more places, Like Dakpatthar, Robbers Cave, etc.

Pritha’s parents learned that Mrs. Biswas is a good singer and that she takes music classes at home. So, all three of us joined her evening music class. Mrs. Biswas taught us, Rabindra Sangeet. None of us were good singers, but yes, it was a good pastime. There were a few more girls that used to come over to her house on Rajpur Road. We had classes three times a week and thoroughly enjoyed the sessions. Mrs. Biswas was a fairly tall, middle-aged lady, not friendly, but she could sing beautifully. By taking music classes, she used to earn, not much, but good for her pocket money.

She had two daughters much younger than us. The older one was preparing for her ICSE exams and was a student at a reputed school. The younger one was in the Vth standard. Mr. Biswas was working for a private company, and little was known about him.

I used to observe the girls, they were unusually quiet and always tiptoed while going from one room to another. Girls their age are generally active and full of life. Our classes were in the evening, and surprisingly, we always found them at home. I tried to discuss this with my friends, but they brushed it off. ‘Why do we need to know much about other people? Mrs. Biswas will never like us to interfere. So, I kept my thoughts to myself.

It was around sunset, and we had come to pay Mrs. Biswas her music class fees, but this evening the door was opened by her daughter, Runa. She had put on glasses and was trying hard to hold her book as well as manage the door latch. We handed her the envelopes, but she told us to keep them on the table, and her mother, who was out, would come and collect them shortly.

I wanted to pick up a conversation with her, but Nisha nudged me gently to leave and go. Time goes by, and one early morning our results were out. We passed with flying colors. Nisha and I took admission to study further and joined the college for Postgraduation. Pritha didn’t study further, as her wedding was fixed by her parents.

It had been almost a year, and we had stopped going to Mrs. Biswas’s house because, now after college, we found it difficult to continue with our singing classes. We had almost forgotten about Mrs. Biswas, but one day my friend, Shantanu, looked worried and asked me, ‘Do you remember Mrs. Biswas’s daughter’? ‘Ah! Not much, but why?’ Then he told me that last night Runa committed suicide.

Runa, a young girl of 17, when I saw her, was pretty tall, with a marshmallow complexion, big eyes that had specs on, dark brown hair, that fell on her slender shoulders, and was so extremely quiet. Later, we heard that her mother was not pleased with her ICSE results, and she was subjected to such immense mental torture that she couldn’t take it. She took her life by hanging herself when she was alone in the house.

We all had bad feelings and hatred for Mrs. Biswas, and our anger fell on the man of the house, a spineless man. What was Mr. Biswas doing? Holding a high post in an MNC doesn’t make a man worthy of respect. Those who cannot manage their homes are failures.

She 

All the people revolted and stopped mixing with Mrs. Biswas. She, whom God had blessed with two adorable daughters, couldn’t look after her children. Her music classes stopped. No one likes to send their daughters to someone who can’t be a good teacher. She who was not good with her children’s upbringing: what lessons can she give to others?

Parents should be patient and know how to handle children. If all mothers wish their child to stand first, then who will come second? 

Even 

So, many years have passed, but even today, when I think of Runa, I strongly feel, if and only if such parents who do not know how to raise children are counselled, perhaps many children would have better and healthier lives.