Early death of my grandmother brought several changes in the house. My grandfather, who was a carefree man and spend most of the time in body building and village wrestling competition was now more at home smoking “Hukka”. It seemed that he lost all interest in what he used to do earlier. Hari, who was living separately slowly came back and once again a common kitchen started in the hut. Shyam became more rebellious and my father followed Shyam more than any one else. Chandra continues in the shadow of Shyam and my father but started mingling with other village girls. Time moved very fast after that. My father was put in a school which operated in a nearby village by Shyam. Out of sheer devotion to his elder brother, my father studied very hard and was the brightest of all the boys in his school.

The school was very different to what we see today. It was a collection of village boys who were curious to understand what the postman was reading out of letters and why he was so respected in the village. For some it was fun having company of several boys of their age and for few like my father it was a gateway to fulfil his dreams. There were no bench or table to sit on. The class was a large size hut where mats were laid out for students to sit and recite what the Master told them to. There were no books. Only one slate which was used to write notes for the day. There were no girls in this school and there were no grades. Every student sat in the same class and got education from the teacher based on his previous knowledge. In all there were eleven boys and the fee was one kilogram of rice every month. My father recalled having his first experience in reading and writing. This was to change his life for ever eventually.