The First Earning

From first love to first sex, life is marked by a trail of firsts. Some are fleeting. But some leave an indelible impression. They linger like the fragrance of fresh flowers. Or the sight of kites dancing across a clear sky. We may forget many things as the years pass, but certain firsts remain vivid forever. No one remembers the first sentence they spoke. Yet many can recall the first love letter they wrote in stumbling words.

The year 1995 occupies a special place in my memory. That was the year I appeared for my first board examination—the Madhyamik or Class 10 Secondary Examination. It was a different era, long before mobile phones and the internet became part of life. Examination results were displayed on school notice boards. Students and parents had to visit the school and note them down.

My mother, an emotional and deeply caring woman, was particularly anxious about the result. As the day dawned, she found it impossible to concentrate on her daily chores. The question that troubled her was simple: What would happen to her son? Her anxiety was so great that she scarcely paid attention to my five-year-old younger brother.

As for me, I was no better. Convinced that I might fail, I sought refuge in my grandmother's house next door. A terrible fear had taken hold of me. I did not want to face the result, whatever it might be.

Maa was never very concerned about appearances. A simple cotton saree, a red dot on her forehead, a pair of gold bangles, and a light touch of powder were enough for any occasion. But on that particular morning, she forgot even those small rituals. When she discovered that I had disappeared to my grandmother's house, she rushed to the school in the same saree she had been wearing. Even today, I can picture the scene.

Fortunately, the result met all expectations. When Maa returned home with the news, the family joined in celebration. Everyone congratulated me on the months of hard work that had led to my success. For the first time, I felt like a hero. Having little experience of the outside world, I believed I had achieved something truly extraordinary. Poor me! I did not realize that it was only a school examination and that far greater challenges awaited me in the years ahead.

Among all the students from my school who appeared for the examination, I secured the highest marks. It was not the result of exceptional intelligence, but of diligence and discipline. Yet the sense of achievement was undeniable. The following weeks passed pleasantly in the quiet, idyllic town where I grew up.

About a month later, I received a letter from a local club. They planned to felicitate successful students during their Durga Puja celebrations and invited me to attend. Excitement surged through my young heart. I arrived at the venue well before the programme began, unwilling to miss even a moment of what felt like a hero's welcome.

Several other successful candidates were already seated on the stage. After reading out a congratulatory message, the club secretary asked one of us to speak about exam preparation. We looked at one another nervously. Speaking before a public audience for the first time! That was a frightening prospect. To my surprise, the others insisted that I speak on behalf of everyone.

My hands trembled as I held the microphone. Yet somehow, I managed to say a few words. Even today, I remember parts of that first speech. But that is not the point of this story.

Along with a certificate, each student was handed an envelope. Curious, I opened mine as soon as I reached home. Inside was a letter written in Bengali. Stapled to it was a crisp hundred-rupee note straight from the bank—Wow! my first earning.

I ran my fingers over the note again and again. To my teenage self, it felt as though I had won a treasure. My mind raced with possibilities. Should I buy books for myself? Sweets for the family? Chocolates for my brother and sisters?

When my father returned home, however, he put an end to those plans. He decided that the note would be kept safely in the closet for the time being. I was not disappointed. I wanted to preserve the memory of my first earning for as long as possible.

Over the following months, I opened the locker several times to look at the hundred-rupee note. It filled me with a sense of fulfilment.

A few months later, one of my aunts took me to the local branch of UCO Bank. The hundred-rupee note was deposited, and I opened my very first bank account.

One first had led to another.

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Picture credit: pixabay.com/jambulboy