“Ammi, when will school reopen?” asks Muniyaa. Sahara continues with the last round of thinning out jute plants. These are busy days in her 10-decimal land. She has no time for Muniyaa’s questions.
“Why aren't schools reopening…!” The little girl is harping on the same question. This time Sahara pauses, turns to her and desperately trying to control the frustration in her voice, says: “dekhish naa ki groom [don't you see the scorching heat]? It hasn't rained for eight months.”
“Then why don't they install AC?” Muniyaa is relentless with her questions.
“Sarkar [government] doesn't have money.” Sahara’s patience is thinning.
“How come the borolok English schools [English medium schools for the rich] have so many ACs then?”
Sahara sinks into hard work and silence until the evening. She had to leave her work unfinished and hurry home with Muniyaa today. It is voting day. Sahara rushes towards the primary school booth to cast hers with her eight-year-old girl tagging along.
“Why do we need to vote, Ammi?” Muniyaa is unstoppable today. Sahara is relieved that the topic has changed for now, but she is too tired to engage her daughter.
“I heard it on the TV the other day. A big leader was saying that they don't need Muslim votes! We are Muslim, Ammi. So why do we vote?”
Sahara stops in her track only to stare at the little one. Muniyaa knows what that cold and empty stare means. She shuts up.