Those Innocent Eyes Are Watching

By Suvra

Life provides us with lessons continuously through various incidents. These incidents can be happy or joyful and also sad or unhappy. They are given to us to make us into the persons we are supposed to be. These stories are about the upbringing of a little girl child, Lizzie, in the late 1970s.
The stories are about the little child who faces both light and darkness in her childhood while growing up. In her evolution from a little girl into a woman, her innocent, childish mind has to face bitter incidents in every family, in the society, and in the country.
From an orthodox Brahmin Hindu family from India, little Lizzie faces a lot of challenges given by life, including religious problems, and soon learns that the biggest religion is humanity. Various gender problems and broken dysfunctional relationships made an influence on her. She faces her cousin Mohims perverted attitude and also social problems, like poverty and illiteracy.
There are many people who come into her life path and gave her glimpses of light, and it helped her fight against and overcome the dirty, dark issues surrounding her. This collection of little stories is from a little girls eyes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Dec 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781482859362

Suvra

Suvra Bhattacharyya, with Bengali honors, graduated from Calcutta University. Also a certified yoga trainer under the World Yoga Society, practicing healing with Yoga methods of diseases. Her blog, kizeririnblogspot.com contains some columns posted regularly- - “Synthesis of Yoga”- related to yoga. -”I did nothing for Sahana”- life coaching -”Once upon a time Dark lord and Light queen fell in love”- Fantasy (which is soon to be released as a complete book)

Book preview

Those Innocent Eyes

Are Watching

SUVRA

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Copyright © 2015 by Suvra.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/india

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

I

dedicate this book to you, the reader.

Also, to my daughter, Shreya, whom I identify as Faith and my son, Soham, whom I identify as Hope.

As a mother of two beautiful angels I wanted to say in this book that innocent eyes of children

are always watching us adults, parents and teachers.

We know that a person’s behavior depends on two matters-

‘past experience’, especially trauma, and the ‘fear for the future’.

The past experiences are created by us - Parents, teachers and other adults.

These children are the world’s future who will create history.

So, we, adults, must be aware of this, irrespective of the struggles and problems of life,

because always remember that-

Those Innocent Eyes are Watching

Chapter 1

T he man was sitting with his head hanging down, his knees bent, his back supporting the wall, his face buried between his arms, waiting patiently for the rain to end. Lizzie sat to study. Since morning, she had no interest in her lessons because of the continuous downpour! No interest at all! Her mother had gone to feed her little sister. In this opportunity, she tiptoed before the man, who still didn’t notice her presence.

Lizzie saw that the man was alone, but several voices flowed towards her. She was surprised. Moving forward, she sat on the cemented stairway near him. Their namma (grandmother) decorated the house in her own way. If one entered their house, one could see a courtyard, which was bounded by red and white cemented chairs. Instead of sitting on one of them, he sat on the floor in a crouching position.

When Lizzie went ahead to sit on one of them, the man, becoming conscious of her presence, looked up at her, a little girl who wore floral printed frock and iron bangles on her wrist. Her eyes had a certain sparkle in them.

Lizzie saw a tall stout person with wheat-coloured skin. She asked, ‘Do you have a radio?’

‘Where? Not at all.’

Lizzie bent down and looked around for a hidden radio, not trusting the man. He sat down and said, ‘Where is the radio? Can you see it?’

Seeing no radio clarified her doubt. Yet she still couldn’t believe it, for she had heard it herself.

‘So many voices …’ she started, ‘So are you a voice actor?’

‘Yes, you have got it right,’ he replied.

‘Will you do that again?’ the little girl nagged.

The man tried to chirrup like a bird, then many birds. Lizzie was puzzled; it was not like before, the one she had heard.

Namma summoned her. Lizzie ran to her. Namma asked her in a rather irritated tone, ‘What are you doing there? He’s a stranger.’ And she said a little loudly, intending for the man to hear, ‘He has been sitting there since morning, with the excuse of the rain, not willing to go!’

Lizzie, worried, told her, ‘Hush! He will hear it.’

‘Then let him. Why didn’t he enter someone else’s house? Did he have to come in my house? I can’t even tell him to go because of the rain.’

Lizzie avoided her and went into the kitchen. Lal-Ma was cooking very quickly. Lizzie assumed that talking to her now would be irritating to her. Lal-Ma was the joint family’s eldest daughter-in-law. On her way out, she saw Namma muttering and going into her own room. Lizzie saw that the man had looked up to see Namma and then bent his head down again.

Lizzie sat beside Namma. ‘I’m hungry, Namma. Is there no prasad [offerings of fruits and sweets to a god during prayer in Hindu religion] left?’

Namma picked flowers—tagar, night queen, rose, jasmine, and many more—and worshipped gods and goddesses every morning. She had a big garden. There was also an orchard consisting of mango, jackfruit,