A Fairy Tale Story

I am Chaitali. I was born in Darjeeling, a beautiful hill station. My story is different and sometimes even I am amazed at it myself. Surely I would want the world to know about it because it is about true unconditional love beyond boundaries.

My Baba and Ma had different religious backgrounds. My Ma was already a divorcee with two daughters. So when they got married they faced many problems socially. My Baba was thrown out of his family forever. To restart their life, they settled down in Darjeeling. In Darjeeling Baba worked at the PWD office and Ma taught at a girls’ school after doing her BT (Bachelor of Teaching). She was popularly known as “Bangla Guruma” (Guruma meaning – teacher in Nepali).

Years flew past and both of them had made a beautiful, loving home in Darjeeling. People loved them in Darjeeling. They had made their place in the hearts of many there and in the midst of this loving surrounding, I was born to them after twelve years of their marriage. I was greatly loved.

Life changes and so it changed. My Baba had heart ailments and so he decided to shift back to Calcutta (now Kolkata). He wanted to make Ma secure among her relatives. They shifted to Calcutta and within ten months he died. I was then four years old. Ma took up a teaching job in a Day School and we lived in a nice room. We had a world of our own.

Meanwhile, I had got acquainted with all my “relatives” from my Ma’s side. She has four sisters and one brother. My Baba had no contact with his family; he only had a friend whom I called Kaku. There were my cousins also and there was my mother’s mother who disliked me.

We had a nice life in Calcutta but for a short time. My Ma could not take good care of herself and she also succumbed to her heart problems. I was about ten years old and alone. What would happen to me now? Where would I stay? Who would look after me? What work would I be able to do where I stayed? There were many questions. Definitely no one was happy to look after me. Situations were bad. Like any good story, this was my bad time. There was a time when only my Didi (cousin) was there to share my troubles. She was not much bigger than me but she understood everything that time. We surely had a bond.

There came a time when I became very sick as well. I was put into many different schools. My guardians were not very pleased to take care of me. Life became rather complicated. Then Ela Mashima came to my rescue. She was my mother’s friend and she really cared for me. She loved me very much and she celebrated my birthday the year my mother had died, as she still treated me as a child. She mentioned my plight to Miss A. Dorothy Wallace, the principal of my mother’s former school in Darjeeling. She was concerned about me and so she wrote a letter to my Ma’s sister (who was my legal guardian then) that I could come to Darjeeling if I wanted to. I was ready to leave Calcutta. That is how I was taken to Darjeeling back again. I was left there. The Principal was also away at that moment. I was in a new place, new situation and all alone.

In Darjeeling, I was accepted by all specially because of Aunty Wallace. Everyone did their bit to take me back into the fold. I had some problems initially but I settled down soon in the “Boarding Hostel” (that is what it is called popularly) which was to become my home for the next thirteen years. It definitely was not easy.

There were around ninety girls in the hostel. The school was big; it was a very old school.

Miss A. Dorothy Wallace was the Principal for many years. She was a missionary who had come to India from Scotland years ago and she was working for the school under the mission selflessly. She was educating girls, long before we got to hear about the slogan, “Educate the Girl Child” or “Beti Bachao- Beti Padhao.” She had not only saved me but had educated girls from many villages and under developed areas.

She was the most positive thing in my life that changed my life entirely.

“Good” she would say and I would dance with joy in my heart. I loved to hear her call my name “Chaitali” in her voice and tone. That was my name! She motivated me always and supported me for everything good that I did. If ever I had a doubt, she would say – “You can do it, Chaitali!” And definitely I would do it. She loved me very much. She taught me perseverance when the hostel Matron turned against me in all possible ways, partly because of political reasons at that time. When I had to stay in the hostel and go to college, Aunty Wallace was a strong name attached to me. I had my head held high because of her. Slowly and surely, she became my next to kin. I learnt English from her and so many other things. She had given me shelter and education. She had given me the reason to live.

She had become my strength.

The very first day when I had been to school years back, I saw a teacher wearing a Tibetian dress- a “Bakku”. She came towards me smiling. “Do you remember me?” she asked. There were many other teachers there too but she stood out among them. I tried to remember. Yes, I had seen her indeed, somewhere in my childhood. “I am Dawa Guruma”, she said. “The day you were born, I had brought you and your mother home from the hospital as there was a tetanus outbreak there. Your mother was a good friend of mine.”

We became family.

I was really pampered by all the teachers. There was Sera Guruma and Shanta Guruma too. All the teachers always surrounded me with their love and protection. Among them Bishnu Guruma was my emotional support. She was the ultimate “personality” of a true “mother”. We girls believed that she could read minds because she had studied Psychology. She was a very sensitive teacher. She was serious and calm but very very kind. She tried everything to make me happy always. Whenever I could, I would go to be with her at her home. She made me love home because she loved her home and family. I wanted to be like her. Perfect in everything.

However, I had not met Uncle Dewan(Bishnu Aunty’s husband) initially. I got to meet him that winter. The very first year in the winter holidays, I was to stay in Darjeeling and learn Nepali. Hostel would be closed totally as everyone used to go home because of the fierce cold in the winters. Later I heard, my Ma’s sister did not want me during the holidays too. I was allowed to stay at Bishnu Aunty’s place for the first ten days. Then for Christmas I was to go and live with another teacher to celebrate Christmas. Darjeeling was very cold in the winters. The sun was a treat. We hostel girls used to get chilblains in our feet due to the cold. Bishnu aunty’s cottage was very warm. The day I went there, I was very scared to face uncle. How will he be? I wondered. I had already seen many types of people in this short life. I was really very nervous. Knowing Bishnu Aunty, I thought he would be more serious. I really hoped he would be as loving as Bishnu Aunty. But I was very scared inside. I met aunty’s two sons – Bijay Dada and Sanjay. Later in the evening I went to meet Uncle. He called me inside. “Come in Chaitali”, he said. The person I saw was exactly the opposite of what I had imagined. He was short and cheerful and full of love. He was full of wisdom too. He became my favorite person. I feel blessed to have known him. He was the person I could turn to – always and I did in very crucial moments of my life and he was there. He helped me whenever he could. Our relationship was beautiful. I miss him very much now that he is no more with us.

How did I live in the Hostel? Who paid for my education? These questions are still not answered yet.

My “legal guardian”, my mother’s sister dropped me off at Darjeeling and never bothered to ask much about me, though she was my so called “blood relative.”

During that time, many poor girls (and boys in the Boys School) were given help by sponsorship programmes there in Darjeeling. Aunty Wallace arranged that, I also got a sponsor through this programme. A sponsor or a Foster Father, generally from Germany or even U.S.A. used to send money for the education and survival of one child. Like this there were many sponsored children. I became one of them. These sponsors generally gave help to the children till they finished schooling. They stopped after that and then there would be no connection with them. They could then sponsor another child.

My sponsor (Foster Father) was a shy “kind” bachelor, thirty years older than me. His name was Dieter Holm. He worked in a store of a big factory in Bonn, Germany. He did not know English. He had agreed to support me for my stay in the Hostel in Darjeeling and for my education. He lived in Bonn. There he loved gardening, growing potatoes in his garden and his pet dog, Rex. He went to his neighbor Marianne to get his letters translated and explained to him in German. Marianne Aunty was a kind mother of two adopted kids. She immediately agreed and our communication began. We had to exchange letters every six months. Our photograph was also sent. Dieter Holm sent his financial support to educate me through school, college where I graduated and also after that the Teacher’s Training in Darjeeling, from the same hostel. I had learnt good English over the years and I wrote letters to him telling him all about my life. Marianne Aunty would translate my letters to him in German and tell him about me. She wrote to me in English and told me everything going on in his life there in Germany.

In school we would get everything – books, shoes, clothes (once a year), uniforms and even Christmas gifts. For me it was wonderful. I had to go somewhere during the winter holidays because then the hostel would be closed. During some winters, I used to go to stay at my Ma’s second sister’s place. However as I grew up, one day Bishnu aunty and Dawa Guruma told me that it was no longer safe to go to her place because of her relatives so I stopped. Later when I was in college, I got in touch with my Didi (cousin), my Ma’s fourth sister’s daughter. Because of her I got close to her family again. Then I started going there in the winter holidays. I called her parents Ma and Baba. They really loved me a lot. Baba used to go out of the way to do things for me. Didi, her sister Bubai and I had some lovely times during the winters. We created a beautiful bond. Somehow the bond grew stronger over the years.

1992, 14th March, Friday

It was my wedding day. There were some unique features in it. I was getting married from the school Hostel. Aunty Wallace gave me away to Navin in marriage. She was wearing a purple Banarasi saree that day. I was married in the church. I was getting married to Navin. Who was he?

At Mount Hermon Teachers’ Training College, I had a classmate, Aubery Thompson. He was a very good friend of mine. He was engaged to Navin’s sister. Aubrey had told Navin about me. Navin came to Darjeeling to meet me. Later he came every Saturday to Calcutta to meet me at Didi’s place where I stayed during the winter holidays. Navin was determined to marry me.

And so I was married. Everyone loved Navin. The best thing he told me was he did not want me to change. He loved me and my unique life.

Sometime later, I received a letter from my Foster Father from Germany. He had written to Aunty Wallace and had asked about me. She in return sent him my wedding photographs and wrote to him about my wedding. She gave him my address.

I was delighted. I wrote back to him immediately, telling him all about the new phase of all my life. Marianne Aunty was always very sensitive about the letters I wrote to my Foster Father. She also became a part of our lives. I think I am the only sponsor whose life took such a turn. Definitely I would not be what I am today without all the efforts and love of all the different people in my life. We often discussed about our problems in life and all our difficulties. I would tell them about my life and its various stages. He congratulated us when our children were born, sent them posters and cards. His letters inspired me and made me feel so wanted.

I often wonder if I could just see him and Marianne Aunty once. They meant so much to me.

25th September 2008, Thursday (Bonn, Germany)

I saw him. It was a wonderful feeling to see him in person in front of me.

To make this meeting possible, Marianne aunty had worked very hard. She was no longer the “TRANSLATOR”. She was special to me. It was arranged that I would stay at her place at Bonn. We had a wonderful time together, all three of us. For ten days, I saw many places in Bonn and had a beautiful ride on a ship along the river Rhine. Another day, I saw Foster Father’s garden. He could not grow potatoes anymore, but he grew grapes. Marianne aunty took me to see the beautiful castle hidden among the lovely green mountains called BURG ELTZ.

I was looked after very well. Marianne Aunty really saw to it that my trip to Germany becomes memorable. Foster Father could not speak in English but I could understand his feelings for me very well. He was worried about his health at that time. From Germany, I went to Scotland to meet Aunty Wallace. Almost every year she would visit us wherever we lived. She once shifted with us in a truck in Daman as well. She loved her grand children and brought lovely toys for them. She came even after her retirement. By the time, I went there, she had stopped coming to India.

Scotland is a beautiful place. I re-lived the pages of Agatha Christie as I went around the lovely countryside. Needless to say I remembered Sherlock Holmes as I saw the beautiful city of Edinburgh. I loved the hospitality of aunty’s friends – Alan uncle and Olwen aunty. They took good care of me.

All these twenty days, my wonderful husband looked after the kids at home – Babu seventeen and Momo eleven at that time. Without his support, I could not have gone for this trip. When I returned, I found Navin, Babu and Momo waiting for me at the airport. I was in tears with joy. I had completed a great journey.

Today, aunty Wallace still lives in Nethybridge, Scotland. She is 92 years old. We often have a chat over the phone. We talk about many things. We share our happiness talking about old times. I miss going into her office always as I used to do when I was in the Hostel.

Dieter Holm is in Bonn. He lives in an old age home now. Marianne aunty still translates his words through e-mail. We are very much in touch.

Aunty Dewan is in Darjeeling. Uncle Dewan has left us early. I miss him very much.

In Calcutta, my Didi still calls me – everyday. She still cries when she has to say ‘Goodbye to me”. Ma and Baba have left us, they always did more than they could do for me. Didi went out of the way to see me happy. She was the one who wanted to see me having a home, the most. It is a blessing to have her.

Bubai is in Dubai. She has matured into a beautiful lady with a lot of wisdom and love in her. She teaches me so many things in her own sweet ways.

I have had a lovely journey so far. It is a unique one. Some wonderful people have made me who I am by all their love and kindness. They are all from different places, different religions and different countries. We are all far away from them but love binds us, as one.

This story is dedicated to all those people.