Alone and Away

Ishita waited in the queue, holding a plate. The day had left her exhausted. She just wanted to close her eyes and travel to the land of dreams, to a realm where she would never have to be unhappy again. She wanted to go back to the days when there was nothing but sunshine and happiness.

‘’What are you thinking? Give me your plate,’’ the cook demanded in a harsh voice.

Ishita realised it was her turn to be served. She leapt out of her stupor with a start and handed the cook her plate. The cook grumpily put some food on the plate and handed it back to her. Ishita then walked to one of the dining tables and sat down next to a cheerful-looking girl. She looked at the food she had been served: rice, vegetables and fish. Fish was a special treat, so she eagerly took a bite, only to realise it was half-burnt. She had, however, always been taught never to waste food. So, grating her teeth, she ate it all, washed her plate at a nearby sink and then walked over to the room she shared with her friend, Meeta.

Meeta had finished her dinner early and was now busy opening the parcels she had been sent from home. ‘’Look!’’ she squeaked as Ishita entered the room. ‘My mother has sent me a basket of fruits and a box of chocolates!’’

Ishita faked a smile as she sat down on her bed. Meeta had no reason to be in this school, but her parents believed living in a boarding school would make her studies more rigorous. However, every week, she received long letters and gifts from home. She had a choice, a place to go back to. Ishita did not.

Meeta fell asleep in a few seconds. Ishita, however, stayed awake, thinking how different things had once been. There had once been a place she had called home, in one of the narrow alleys of Old Dhaka. Her parents made sure she was always safe and loved. She knew nothing except happiness, attending a peaceful little school, running down the lanes with her friends and little brother, playing hide-and-seek in the abandoned colonial buildings that flanked both sides of the streets in the old town.  

But that happiness had not lasted long. When she was in fifth grade, her mother died of cancer. Her father doted on her and her younger brother. But then, a couple of years later, he, too, passed away from heart failure. Their closest relative was an uncle, who already had a large family and could not afford to offer shelter to two orphans. So, he sent Ishita to a boarding school in Chittagong, while her brother was kept in Dhaka to attend a boarding school there. The school Ishita attended was nothing more than a poorly maintained charitable institution _ the living conditions, although hygienic, were not exactly comfortable; the food, though sufficient, was not always nutritious.

As Ishita could not fall asleep, she walked to the window and looked outside. She felt a gentle breeze and closing her eyes, she breathed it in. Soon the vacations would start and parents would be waiting outside the school, waiting to take their daughters back home for the break. The other students would be greeted with smiles and flowers, but Ishita would have to walk alone to the bus station and travel to Dhaka all on her own. But at least she would be briefly reunited with her brother, someone who had shared the happy days of the past with her, and was now going through just what she was going through. Together, trying to smile through it all, they would conquer the difficulties that life had brought them.

Alone and Away

Ishita waited in the queue, holding a plate. The day had left her exhausted. She just wanted to close her eyes and travel to the land of dreams, to a realm where she would never have to be unhappy again. She wanted to go back to the days when there was nothing but sunshine and happiness. What are you thinking? Give me your plate, the cook demanded in a harsh voice. Ishita realised it was her turn to be served. She leapt out of her stupor with a start and handed the cook her plate. The cook grumpily put some food on the plate and handed it back to her. Ishita then walked to one of the dining tables and sat down next to a cheerful-looking girl. She looked at the food she had been served: rice, vegetables and fish. Fish was a special treat, so she eagerly took a bite, only to realise it was half-burnt. She had, however, always been taught never to waste food. So, grating her teeth, she ate it all, washed her plate at a nearby sink and then walked over to the room she shared with her friend, Meeta. Meeta had finished her dinner early and was now busy opening the parcels she had been sent from home. Look! she squeaked as Ishita entered the room. My mother has sent me a basket of fruits and a box of chocolates! Ishita faked a smile as she sat down on her bed. Meeta had no reason to be in this school, but her parents believed living in a boarding school would make her studies more rigorous. However, every week, she received long letters and gifts from home. She had a choice, a place to go back to. Ishita did not. Meeta fell asleep in a few seconds. Ishita, however, stayed awake, thinking how different things had once been. There had once been a place she had called home, in one of the narrow alleys of Old Dhaka. Her parents made sure she was always safe and loved. She knew nothing except happiness, attending a peaceful little school, running down the lanes with her friends and little brother, playing hide-and-seek in the abandoned colonial buildings that flanked both sides of the streets in the old town. But that happiness had not lasted long. When she was in fifth grade, her mother died of cancer. Her father doted on her and her younger brother. But then, a couple of years later, he, too, passed away from heart failure. Their closest relative was an uncle, who already had a large family and could not afford to offer shelter to two orphans. So, he sent Ishita to a boarding school in Chittagong, while her brother was kept in Dhaka to attend a boarding school there. The school Ishita attended was nothing more than a poorly maintained charitable institution _ the living conditions, although hygienic, were not exactly comfortable; the food, though sufficient, was not always nutritious. As Ishita could not fall asleep, she walked to the window and looked outside. She felt a gentle breeze and closing her eyes, she breathed it in. Soon the vacations would start and parents would be waiting outside the school, waiting to take their daughters back home for the break. The other students would be greeted with smiles and flowers, but Ishita would have to walk alone to the bus station and travel to Dhaka all on her own. But at least she would be briefly reunited with her brother, someone who had shared the happy days of the past with her, and was now going through just what she was going through. Together, trying to smile through it all, they would conquer the difficulties that life had brought them.