The Eyes of Dugga.
Dugga# is all of fourteen. Young , nubile with a vivacious voice Dugga truly is a rendition of the Goddess herself.
Her voice echoes all around during their play of kitkit( the Indian version of hop skip and jump with additions which vary regionally, the same thing in principle might be named very differently in another part of the country) in the mango yard. The afternoon had a thicket of clouds rolling in, darkness fell but the game went on.
Dugga loves kitkit and equates it to being more important than going to school. She reasons , ‘for here I can do something I enjoy while eating an aamra( an Indian plum) while at school all I get is a teacher who gets maddened when I read Engreji.’ ‘Dada I hate Engreji and I don’t get it when you keep laughing to didi while talking in engreji. I want to learn it but I know it’s too difficult, why can’t you just talk in bangla’, she asks amidst short breathes as she hops around during her play.
Seeing her, run about and making play in such a time of uncertainty would make one think. Uncanny, with a way unquite like the others,Dugga didn’t seem fearing the uncertain. She is a veteran I felt , almost like a younger version of Marlon Brando from Apocalypse Now. Steely eyed, a chuckle in her voice, a sudden temperament and a joyous smile shows the many side of Dugga. It’s almost like she has seen it all, which for someone this young would be difficult to believe , but hearing her story past is not what I intend to deliver here today. That is a tale for another day. For the many young one’s Dugga di, is the sole promise of someone who didn’t shed a tear with the news of closure. She remained the sole overarching voice which brought the little ones together. Someone who brought back their laughter at Ananda Kendra, all together in a game of kit kit.
It showed her strength, the resilience and her will to fight. Not in despair but to will for a hope, a hope that good news will come again and Ananda Kendra will be the lively place she knew it to be. ‘The archaic building is well kept clean swept and wiped with the will of cleaning of one’s own house. Dugga is at the helm, not in instruction but leading them. Leading them by doing it, by encouraging them by making them believe … this is home, this is where we belong. And we will be here, this will remain our home. Over the past few days many a family has come , or sent in relatives , many a cry heard, Dugga sees them through, makes them believe that there is hope.
Finally I had to ask her, if she was scared. She replied.. ‘a little, but dada do you think aren’t we all scared a little. But I feel we will see it through, tomraa aamader saathe je( you are with us all)’. She turned , smiled and ran off to play. A wetness I felt on my cheeks. The clouds rolled aback. The eyes of Dugga I had seen.
Rohit is a second year student of Master of Public Health in Social Epedimiology Program, School of Health Systems Studies at TISS, Mumbai
Dugga# is all of fourteen. Young , nubile with a vivacious voice Dugga truly is a rendition of the Goddess herself.
Her voice echoes all around during their play of kitkit( the Indian version of hop skip and jump with additions which vary regionally, the same thing in principle might be named very differently in another part of the country) in the mango yard. The afternoon had a thicket of clouds rolling in, darkness fell but the game went on.
Dugga loves kitkit and equates it to being more important than going to school. She reasons , ‘for here I can do something I enjoy while eating an aamra( an Indian plum) while at school all I get is a teacher who gets maddened when I read Engreji.’ ‘Dada I hate Engreji and I don’t get it when you keep laughing to didi while talking in engreji. I want to learn it but I know it’s too difficult, why can’t you just talk in bangla’, she asks amidst short breathes as she hops around during her play.
Seeing her, run about and making play in such a time of uncertainty would make one think. Uncanny, with a way unquite like the others,Dugga didn’t seem fearing the uncertain. She is a veteran I felt , almost like a younger version of Marlon Brando from Apocalypse Now. Steely eyed, a chuckle in her voice, a sudden temperament and a joyous smile shows the many side of Dugga. It’s almost like she has seen it all, which for someone this young would be difficult to believe , but hearing her story past is not what I intend to deliver here today. That is a tale for another day. For the many young one’s Dugga di, is the sole promise of someone who didn’t shed a tear with the news of closure. She remained the sole overarching voice which brought the little ones together. Someone who brought back their laughter at Ananda Kendra, all together in a game of kit kit.
It showed her strength, the resilience and her will to fight. Not in despair but to will for a hope, a hope that good news will come again and Ananda Kendra will be the lively place she knew it to be. ‘The archaic building is well kept clean swept and wiped with the will of cleaning of one’s own house. Dugga is at the helm, not in instruction but leading them. Leading them by doing it, by encouraging them by making them believe … this is home, this is where we belong. And we will be here, this will remain our home. Over the past few days many a family has come , or sent in relatives , many a cry heard, Dugga sees them through, makes them believe that there is hope.
Finally I had to ask her, if she was scared. She replied.. ‘a little, but dada do you think aren’t we all scared a little. But I feel we will see it through, tomraa aamader saathe je( you are with us all)’. She turned , smiled and ran off to play. A wetness I felt on my cheeks. The clouds rolled aback. The eyes of Dugga I had seen.
Rohit is a second year student of Master of Public Health in Social Epedimiology Program, School of Health Systems Studies at TISS, Mumbai
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