The Iron Lady

It was half past six  on a sweltering evening in Central Kolkata , when a young girl of about sixteen or seventeen stood waiting in front of Chandni Chowk Metro station Gate number four. “I have been waiting for you people,” she said smiling. “Please come this way, Maa is waiting for you ; our street is a bit  unknown to many people…this way  to our place.” added the young girl.

A huge Shodor Dorja (Main Gate) paved the way to the ground floor residence of the Nag’s. A house which might go unnoticed because of its location but with its gigantic stature , it manages to offer impeccable history. “Please mind the stairs,” “Maa they are here !” the girl shouted out. On entering the house, it seemed as if the family existed here forever. Two middle-aged women stood at the entrance, “ come to this room, make yourself comfortable,” one of the ladies said.

Clad in a yellow cotton saree and wearing a wide heart-warming smile, the main protagonist of the story entered the room with two glasses of soft drinks. “ What exactly do I have to say,” “ puro golpota bolbo ki ( shall I narrate the full story)?” Mrs. Gita Nag asked. A light blue colored-walled room with high ceilings dissected equally between long lines of Kadi Borgas. There was a queer felinity present in the ambience. As there was no male prominence in the household, Mrs. Gita Nag seemed promising as the “one who wears the pants “ in the family.

On being asked how she feels being felicitated with so many awards, Gita Nag replied smiling, “Very nice ! I am really happy ‘bhishon bhalo lagche’ .

Her daughter and others who were standing all this time have had nestled themselves in various corners of the room. On questioned for the exact notorious incident that took place that day, Mrs. Gita Nag’s eyes beamed with incitement to the story. “You know I will never forget that day. It was around eleven or eleven –thirty in the morning,” she continued. “ What actually triggered the incident was not known to me or any of us, all that I remember is that I had finished my household chores and was going out from the main gate, when my sister who is also my neighbor cried out my name !”

By this time her bedroom was filled with other familiar faces from the neighborhood. “I heard some noise from the Anchaliya’s residence and immediately told myself that something is wrong, shanghatik kharap kichu hocche bhetore ( something gravely wrong taking place inside the house).” “Even other neighbors heard sounds from their four storied apartment that day; I just wanted to see by myself what was really happening inside ( ami bhetore dhuke dekhte chaichilum ki hocche) ,” she gushed. “Not even thinking twice what the consequences would have been , I entered Manu Antalya’s house, only to find that she was tied to the single-bed in one of her bedrooms and her hands bleeding profusely. Manu Baby’s face was smothered with something hard and she had turned red with pain and blood.”

Gait Nag’s voiced literally shivered as she went ahead with her experience of that unfortunate day. “I thought it might have been Baby’s deaf and dumb son, who must have attacked her or something; never could I have imagined that some robbery would take place in broad day-light, (din duper dalai babe jay) ?” Mrs. Nag had shown exemplary courage for a woman who single handedly caught the ferocious dacoit.

“ I loosened the cloth over her mouth and bhabi cried  out pain. I was feeling so angry then that I went to the window and called the neighbors to gherao the building from all the sides” Gita Nag added. “There were empty boxes all over the bed and then what caught my eyes was a chappor , and I was sure that her son could not have done all this.” Two of the robbers fled as they got alarmed and Mrs. Nag exclaimed, “ a young guy named Uttuya had caught hold of that robber who had the jewelry with him, but bechara Uttuya, oh toh mara geche kichu bochor holo (its actually sad that Uttuya died few years back).”

Manju Anchaliya remains unavailable for any comments.

“The police cooperated with us and I had told them agey apnara Manju bhabike hospital niye jaan, bachao onake ami or hateii goyna debo  ( first take Manju bhabi to hospital and save her ; I will give her the jeweler and no one else).” Mrs. Anchaliya was rushed to Shishu Mangal Hospital as her husband was away in Burdwan for official purpose.”I gave her back her ornaments and the dacoits were caught eventually,”

 “ I was not scared , I wasn’t thinking about anything else.” She said with a hint of anger in her voice. Mrs. Nag went ahead, “I thought if I don’t help , If I don’t take this step today, a family will be destroyed, ekta poribar nosto hoye jabe( A family will be ruined) , this could have happened to my family also isn’t it? Even I would have expected someone to come for our rescue.” She spoke these words and looked at the neighbors who were already peeping through the iron grill gates surrounding the Nag’s residence. She confessed that even though she was feeling a bit scared but its was less of  fear and more of a curiosity that was working for her.”Ami jante chaichilum ki hocche” was her quick reply.

On being asked why she went ahead and took such a brave step all by herself Mrs. Gita Nag said, “I never thought I will die, why would I everybody has to bid farewell to this place kiser bhoy jokhun shobaike morte hobe ekdin ?” Mrs. Nag expressed enthusiastically.

“ You know ,now that I have had taken that step I would love to generate confidence in other women to come up and do things that only men were supposed to have done all this time.” “ Somewhere in my heart I know every girl can achieve anything she wants to acquire, I have brought up my daughter that way.”

From the queer feeling of the female dominance in the room it was clear that there was no male existence in the household. On discussing about her bravery and courageous act that day, she informed that that her husband died within a year after her marriage. Mrs. Gita Nag was already six months pregnant. “ I know what struggle means; I know what it takes to bring up a daughter all by myself; I know what hurdles I have faced doing everything on my own.” “If I can take up such a step without even thinking what will happen to my baby girl, where will she land up if something had happens to me, shob meyeraii Oshadhhyo sadhon korte pare ( any woman can achieve the impossible).” Almost in tears out of self pride and believe in the almighty she shifted a bit to make place for her daughter Megha to sit on the giant king sized bed.

Mrs. Gita Nag’s Daughter, Megha now sitted beside her mother added hints of information wherever possible. “ My mother is absolutely brave,” she responded. “I was very scared to see Maa enter that house, even thogh I understood very little of what actually was happening and what exactly awaits her inside,” She added. 

Looking outside the room she went on , “ I told Megha, Jete deye amae, ami jemon tor maa temon Bhabi o karur maa ( Let me go Megha, just like am your mother, Manju aunty is somebody’s mother too).”

“I feel extremely great that I am born to such an amusing woman,” Megha spoke looking proudly at her mother “Even though I could make out that my mother was going to do something daring and valorous I was really scared.” Mrs. Nag goes on, “ One must protest and unless and until one does not take a strand- no justice will be done; had I not acted in impulse, the goons would not have been arrested.”

“I don’t know about others, but it is expected from Bunu ( Mrs. Nag) to do something so manful,” Mrs.Ruby Mukherjee exclaimed. She is not only Mrs. Gita Nag’s neighbour but also her sister. “We feel secured when she is around,” she added. “We tend to fret at times  when she goes away or is not around in the neighbourhood; she has created a milestone for courage and audacity for women of today.” Mrs Ruby Mukherjee mentioned.

“I keep a steel rod for our safety at home; even though I am running to help to others I need to protect my family too.” Mrs Gita said while re-arranging her yellow cotton  taant saree and tightly covering her shoulders. I have taught my girl in English Medium School.I want my Megha to stand on her own feet,follow her dreams and never back out or quit from trying. Her failure won’t dissappoint me but if she never takes any risk I would really question my nurturing.” “However I am sure she will never dissapoint me,” Mrs Nag said looking with promising eyes towards Megha.

Mrs. Gita is a spectacular woman. Her daughter has opened her an account in facebook and twitter but to her ignorance towards all these awareness she sticks to being a mother; an ever helpful neighbour and a strong backbone to her family and friends. “Be brave and make yourself strong enough to face the worst scenario because you need to fight your own battles shahosh rakho mone bhoy peleii bipod ( be brave, its dangerous to be scared of anything).” She got up from the bed and faded behind the curtains of the kitchen doors while her daughter switched on the lights of the Dalaan followed by the Utthon to show the way out “dekhe jaben..oikhanta shiri ache…( walk carefully..the stairs are upfront)”.