ABSTRACT
Time passed and I was growing. I was now almost nine years old. “She is not learning any housework. … Whatever will she do in her father-in-law’s home?” lamented many a well-wisher to my mother. Those dark words were often repeated, but they failed to register with my mother and I went about as usual, giving little thought to the problems of domestic life. My time was divided between school and the carefree hours at home, and except for asking me to fetch and carry during the puja days and occasionally hand out plates of sweets to her guests, Mother made no effort to educate me. It was Dada, my eldest brother, who at last made her realize that it was high time to take me in hand.
