सखू आजी Sakhu Aji (Grandmother Sakhu)

लेखक सांगतात की सखू आजीच्या मृत्यूने त्यांच्या मनात खोल जखम झाली, जरी ती त्यांची कोणीच नात्यातली नव्हती. ती नव्वद वर्षांची, वाकलेली पण अतिशय बोलकी होती. ती नेहमी यमक जुळणाऱ्या, गाण्यासारख्या ओळींत बोलायची, जणू ती एक चालतीबोलती कविताच होती.

The author recounts that when Sakhu Aji passed away, it seemed a small event to others, yet it left a deep wound in his heart. Though she was no blood relation, no relative by caste or family, she felt as close to him as his own kin. Ninety years old, leaning on a stick, her body bent and her face lined with wrinkles, whenever someone greeted her in the lane, she would answer instantly in rhyming, sing-song phrases. Her speech flowed so naturally and rhythmically that the author always felt she was a living poem - she seemed to speak in verse and live in verse, and he never encountered anyone with such an extraordinary command of language.

लहानपणी शाळेत जाता-येताना आजी लेखकांना गोळा करून गोष्टी सांगायची. एकदा तिने साप-बैल-नागिणीबद्दलची एक गूढ, रूपकात्मक गोष्ट सांगितली, जी लेखकांच्या मनात इतकी खोल रुतली की कित्येक दिवस ती त्यांच्या स्वप्नांत परत परत यायची.

In childhood, Grandmother Sakhu would gather the author and other children on their way to and from school and tell them stories about the deities of the fields - sometimes one story would stretch across an entire week. Once she told a strange, symbolic tale about a snake transforming into a man, then an ox, and finally becoming a snake again and slithering off with a female serpent. As she narrated it, her shifting expressions and hand gestures made it feel as if it were all unfolding before their eyes, sending shivers down their spines. The story lodged itself so deeply in the author's mind that for many days it recurred exactly the same way in his dreams, disturbing his sleep.

सखू आजी गावातील प्रत्येक बारसे, लग्न, मयतासाठी हजर असायची आणि तिचा शब्द अंतिम मानला जायचा. एकदा एका मुलावर दंड ठोठावला जाणार होता, पण आजीने 'लहान मूल चूक करते म्हणून त्याची मांडी कापायची का' असा प्रश्न विचारून त्याला वाचवले.

The author recounts that Sakhu Aji was present without fail at every naming ceremony, wedding or funeral in the village, and everything followed her word - no one ever challenged what she said. Once, during a village fair, a boy had misbehaved, and the village elders had nearly finalised a decision to punish him, when the old woman stood up and asked whether one should cut off a child's leg just because it soiled itself on your lap. Hearing this, everyone fell silent, and the elders withdrew their decision to punish him - such was the village's fear and respect for her.

गावात प्रौढ साक्षरता वर्ग नसताना आजीने स्वतःच पंधरा दिवसांत वाचायला शिकून घेतले आणि सर्व बायकांना शिकवायला सुरुवात केली. निरक्षर सरपंचालाही तिने साक्षर केले. गावातील पहिला पोलीस झालेल्या मुलाचे तिने कौतुकाने औक्षण केले. संपूर्ण गाव हा तिचा गोतावळाच होता.

While the author was in college, he noticed that although adult literacy classes were thriving in the wider area, none was running in his own village. Grandmother Sakhu, gathering the village women, came to the author's house and declared that since 'our boy' was educated, he should teach them himself. After this, Sakhu Aji herself learned to read within fifteen days and set about teaching all the women; she even cornered the illiterate village head at the village council hall and made him literate enough to sign his name within a week. When a village boy became the first policeman from their village, she gathered the women and ceremonially waved a lamp before him in his uniform, sweetening his mouth with curd and sugar. The whole village was her extended family; she saw her own home in every person, young or old, in it.

लेखक म्हणतात की सखू आजीला जर योग्य शिक्षण मिळाले असते, ती शहरात जन्मली असती, तर ती खूप उंचीवर पोहोचली असती. तिच्या मृत्यूने लहानांपासून वृद्धांपर्यंत सर्वांच्या डोळ्यांत पाणी आले आणि संपूर्ण गाव पोरके झाले.

Finally, the author reflects that if Sakhu Aji had received a proper education or had been born in a city, her extraordinary intellect would have carried her far; but that was not to be her fate, and still, within her lifetime, she achieved all that was possible for her. When Sakhu Aji died, tears welled up in the eyes of everyone from small children to the elderly, and the whole village felt orphaned. The author notes that now only her memories and legends remain, and that every village once had such a grandmother who held its extended family together; but in changing times, there is simply no place left for such a figure, which is the real loss.