There lived a prostitute in front of our school, where I studied from fifth to tenth standards. Her name was Littima, and she was referred to by the people as ‘Pretty Littima’, (well, of course the name given here is false in order to protect the concerned person’s privacy). I don’t know exactly, whether she was a prostitute, except the fact that her name itself was enough to create a funny vulgar sense among the students. Perhaps, as I think, she could be a prostitute in her earlier days, and perhaps she might have left that profession due to the compulsion from the religious people around.
Pretty Littima had cows and we used to see her taking the cows for grazing during our class times. She lived in a small house in a perished condition with her children. Well, about her children! She had at least three children, of which the younger one was a boy, who was one year elder to me, with whom all the boys including us were in good friendship. Elder to him was a girl, a pretty fair one with a beauty spot (a mole) on the right part of her jaw (or left?), where it adjoins with the cheek. I remember, once or twice, this girl attended the Sunday Schools (religious classes for Christian children held on every Sunday) in my class, (though she was elder to me by many years) perhaps motivated by the compulsion from the church authorities and religious people around. On such occasions, she used to sit in the class silent without talking to anyone and even looking at anyone. One day, our teacher asked her a question from the text book and she was not able to answer it. I don’t need to mention that these children were also studying in our school for their regular classes and were getting proper education.
I already have said that I was not sure about Pretty Littima’s profession. One day at my house, I happened to hear my mother mentioning her name in an offensive tone. It was something regarding Pretty Littima’s attempt to assume the leadership of some local problem. I could not suppress my curiosity regarding Littima’s profession and I asked my mother, “mother, what is Pretty Littima’s profession?”
Mother neglected my question without giving me a proper answer. With a hilarious tone, she replied with another question, “who knows?’
When I was in my seventh standard, we have got a new class mate. He was a brilliant and smart one, let us call him X. Since I was his best friend, he asked me one day, “I happened to hear about the woman residing close to our school. Do you know anything about the profession of Pretty Littima?”
Acting smart, I shared my knowledge with him, “I think she is a prostitute!”
One day during lunch time, after doing usual naughty as well as smart things, X went to the front side of Pretty Littima’s house. Standing at the door step, he asked loudly,
“Pretty Littima…what about fixing a deal? Can I do ‘it’ with you?” A question from a seventh standard student!
I was not present there at that time. Someone informed me (yeah, the one who appeared in the end portion of ‘Problems of Having a Fictional name’) about the mischief played by X and that how an infuriated Pretty Littima treated him by calling all the names she knew and by chasing him with a broom stick in her hand. After that, Littima’s son came to our class to find X. We said him that we didn’t know where X was. He searched everywhere, but X was not to be seen anywhere for that day.
Hearing my account of Pretty Littima, what do you think was her profession?