7th Mile Kalimpong
She has been admitted to a program in Social Work at Viswabharati University in West Bengal
Indu Sarki, 18 years of age
6th Mile, Kalimpong
Indu has been admitted to a Nursing Program at the Holy family School of Nursing in Patna, Bihar.
Nikita Pradhan, 19 years of age
7th Mile, Kalimpong
Nikita is waiting for admission to the IGNOU program in Medical Technology in Calcutta. She has also applied for Nursing in Patna.
Nikita Pradhan, Class 12
I have never been good at talking, much less writing about myself. Everyone thinks I am shy, but I love to listen. I am not very good at writing, so Subarna helped me write this essay. Yesterday, she got up at six in the morning and asked me: “Nikita when are you going to write the essay? Write it and I will correct the grammar.” I don’t need help with grammar. I got 76% in my English grammar test, I reminded her. And I started writing in my notebook, and today I typed it on the computer in town.
A lady from England, Mrs Mandy Hussey named me Nikita. My mother used to work for her as a cook in the tea garden. From a very young age, I developed a liking for science—particularly Biology and Chemistry. So when most of my friends went to play, I picked up my science book and imagined the inside of human cell and flowers, and think about stars and planets, bubbles and molecules. So even if I did not do well in my science tests, I loved science and my science books. I once remember my friend picking up a fern leaf and placing it on the back of my palm. The leaf left a beautiful pattern—and I later found out that it was from the yellows grains—also called spores--that lie hidden on the back of the leaf. Something hidden and so beautiful.
I love plants and liquids. In class 8, I always waited for my Chemistry lab class because I was thrilled to pick up a test tube and pour liquids and wait for the colours to appear. Words like calyx or corolla were beautiful words. My grandfather was a farmer who taught me different things about the garden and the hidden water sources in my village. His garden was full of squashes, and every summer we had squash for lunch and dinner for two months. But he also had wild camellias and roses in all kinds of colour, peaches and apricots, which we would pick and sell in the open market on Sundays. My grandfather taught me about the beauty of peaches, and about the colour of skies that indicated when the rains would come. My grandmother knew about different kinds of rice grown in the fields— varieties that cannot be found in shops. We grew short rice, long rice, sticky rice, brown rice, black rice, red rice, and all kinds of other varieties. But that was before we left my grandfather’s village to move to our village on 7th mile. We now have a smaller garden which my mother looks after, while my father goes to work as a labourer in Kalimpong town. I remember telling this story to one of the Colby students who came in 2007—John Amadei, and he asked me to take him to my grandfather’s village. I told John that you could see the Kanchenjunga from my grandfather’s window. But I couldn’t take him there because the farm was gone and my grandparents were no longer alive.
When I learnt to play the violin, I began to see colours in music, and people thought I was a bit mad. Kamal Sir would say: Nikita play the purple note, and everybody would laugh. I was twelve when I traveled to Japan to play at concerts, and I remember seeing the blue sea from the plane when he left India and twinkling lights of all colours when we reached Japan at night. I have bad eyesight, so when I get my headaches I see colour. I remember Father MacGuire wearing a bright purple sweater with blue stripes which my mother had knitted for him. I wait for azelias to come out during springtime. My village has azelia hedges running through it like a coloured ribbon. The village dog has an orange tail because someone put colour on him during holi. I love the blue walls of the auditorium in Gandhi Ashram, and the paintings of the Himalayas with spots of white and green and pink. Often when I pray at the temple, I see Goddess Durga appear with a garland of red hibiscus flowers.
I am quiet, but luckily I made friends with many of the Colby students, especially those who liked biology and chemistry. In January 2009, I used to watch Whitney and Cali making flags, and wanted to join, but it was for class 8 and 9, and I was older and had to think about my board exams. What I liked about the students was they were open and friendly. We took them shopping in town, for walks to our villages and temples, introduced them to our families, and made them taste our food. In 2007, Daniel and Jordan taught us to dance in the South American style. Some of the Colby girls played football like experts. One of the teams was called “Whitney Don’t shoot,” which honoured Whitney for being such a good player. We had a lot to share, but often it was difficult for us to imagine how they lived and studied and what a regular day was like for them. For us, America was so distant. But for the three weeks they were with us, they seemed like one of us.
On the final day in January 2009, we put up the prayer flags, tying the strings to the trees and the pillars. Fluttering in the breeze, I saw all of my favourite colors and lovely patterns. The flags fluttered for an whole week after they left, and when they were brought down and placed in a box, I felt that I had lost something. A dense fog surrounded the hills when the bus carrying the Colby students departed.
Truthfully, the whole marathon experience seems very distant now. I have only recently started running again and it took a long time to forget the pain. For a while, I would wince when I saw anyone running for whatever distance. Even so, this didn't stop me from putting my name in the lottery for the London marathon next year. I know, I know, maybe I'll complain a little less the next time around...
Thank you again to everyone for your support and encouragement throughout the whole process. Even if I wasn't thinking about buying the kids shoes around mile 18, it is great to know that this whole project had such an amazing outcome.
Un abrazo muy fuerte,
Whitney
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