It was one of those fine days last summer when I had this longing. A desire which had come up not long ago...but was truly a deep one within me... My parents agreed to fulfill my wish and took me where I wanted to. A nearby orphanage where there were lots of little tots having an entirely different life from that of mine. I always knew they might get food, shelter, and clothing may be a little education but one thing for which they would always yearn for is love. An affectionate hand patting them, encouraging words elevating their souls… someone to look up to an the end of the day and feel tranquil that there is someone waiting for me, someone who wants me, someone who treasures me.
I was eager to go in and meet all the kids there. Some of the little ones, cheerful, not understanding what life hasn’t given them and not knowing the pleasures of the world beyond those walls. Their eyes … a vast ocean of innocence. Concealing God knows how many hopes and dreams for a lonesome life that has been bestowed upon them. Some other older ones, who were somber or perhaps too serious with the kind of circumstances they are put into and in an unfathomable thought as to what could be done next. But what is common to both of them is the blatant truth… denial of love.
I was walking past the garden where some children played merrily… I distributed some toffees to all of them. What could a toffee give them? A moment of joy until it melts away? What could we understand that these kids deserve something more than this… not a toffee to cheer them, not a new dress to make them feel elated, not a meal one time to pamper their taste buds… are we ready to give them what they really crave for? Not many of us are… we all look forward to be philanthropists … engaging ourselves in charitable works? But when will we understand that it is not the materialistic needs of these children that have to be satisfied but they need affection… true love, which most of us, by God’s grace, are lucky to have in life.
I just walked into one of the more secluded rooms of the orphanage. I saw, by the rays of sunshine creeping through the grilled windows of the room, a little boy sitting and watching the arbitrary movement of the dust particles play in the beam of light… Though only about 4 or 5 years of age … the sense of seriousness I saw in him was different from the others of his age. I went up to him, lay my hands on his little shoulder and asked him his name. He did not answer. I was told by one of the in-charges there, that this boy never was interested in playing around like other kids of his age. Always preferred to be in solitude and watch the sun rays through that window. I had a sudden urge inside of me. A desire to bring this boy out of this unpleasant world of his. I wanted him to smile and wanted him to see hope in life. I tried asking him a lot of questions… he was least interested. I never gave up as the urge within me was overwhelming. I gave him the toffee and decided that I would come here everyday to meet this little dark boy. I left that day. But it was as though I found a new meaning to my existence…
Early next morning I returned to that orphanage, to that row of secluded rooms and there I see by the window again… the little dark boy, whose voice I longed to hear, whose smile I longed to see and for whom I believe I was sent here. I reached for him… I see the toffee untouched lying on the floor beside him. I said, “hello little prince! I believe you didn’t like the toffee... Here... I got you another one today.” He just looked at me… as though he never expected to see me again… he took the toffee. I started talking to him. Asked him his name…he never told me… but this time he was paying attention to me… or perhaps, I must say, to the person who was paying attention to him. I was telling him my name, and about the toys I would get him, about all the nursery rhymes I would teach him and lots more. I left again that day after spending a couple of hours with him. I had a personal joy within me to be with him. And with the hope of seeing him again the next day I returned back home.
The next day I get back there to see… chocolate wrappers around him. Wrappers of those toffees that I gave him. I was so elated then. I went up to him… that day he responded to me for the first time. I heard his soft voice for the first time. His name… he never told me but he spoke a little… I would ask him if he would learn a few things from me… like colors, rhymes, drawing small pictures so on and so forth. He had a positive reply for all. I appreciated every tiny thing he did… his sketch of a flower to his match-stick men to the colours he successfully identified. Everything for which I clapped and I could see that little curve on his lips. He was my new-found happiness. He meant so much to me suddenly. He never told me his name… and neither did I ask thereafter because it didn’t matter anyway.
The following days saw our friendship grow… He talked to me... asked me questions wanted to learn more from me… I took him outside to the garden and played with him. He seemed to enjoy everything that was new in his life. I used to call him all sorts of pet names and pamper him a lot. Soon I could see that melancholic strain in his eyes every evening I left that place. I used to assure him my visit the next day. I just wanted to keep him with me always. But I was helpless… I was 19yrs old then. Just a student studying for Bachelors at a distant place and who would come here only during the semester break. I feared what would happen when I would leave that summer… more than me missing him I knew that he would face it harder there.
Anyways, keeping away those thoughts the visits kept on continuing … only he and I knew how much we meant for each other. Perhaps, I never knew as much as he did…
It was one day in the last week of my stay in that place; I went to visit him again. My parents had heard lots about him through me and so accompanied me to visit him. As usual he came up to me running…engulfed in joy… I just lift him high… and started our day’s games and little bit of studies. He was learning more… and enjoying every bit of this new phase in his life. I didn’t want to deprive him of all this that he was experiencing. So we were sitting there, he on my lap, facing me with his little legs around my waist and little hands around my neck… my hands holding him, we were just swaying to and fro … talking, laughing and having our own good time. We came up with a new idea of a game. I asked him questions and he would ask me back the same. Some things like favourite colour, favourite animal, and bird and so on. This was just to show my parents how much he learnt and how well he spoke. It was going on well… when he asked me, “How many siblings do you have?” I answered, “I have a brother (thinking of mine)…” and then... (I smiled at him) “Actually, I have two (considering him as the other)...” I thought I conveyed what I meant and hoped for him to be pleased on hearing that. The message was conveyed but I failed to see that smile, I love to see, on his face. He just looked into my eyes. I could perceive that fathomless ocean asking me something. An expression of his I couldn’t understand for the first time. His eyes expressed something so profound at that moment as tears welled up his eyes and he asked, “Can I ask you something?” … I said, “Sure dear…” I was concerned about what caused that little cheerful face to strain so much. The words that followed caught me in bewilderment and an unknown sense of bliss touched me. He asked, “Can I make you my mother?”…
Gouri B. Nair
21st May,2005
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Each one of us have our own way of defining love… most of us are blessed in life to be with our loved ones. When I saw that little dark boy, I felt the affection towards him as a friend and a little brother who I always wanted to take care of. I was 19 and he was 5. What more could this relationship mean anyway. But what most of us fail to realize is that…. The little boy was deprived of love. He knew one thing. That “Mother” was the ultimate sense of love. In fact, ‘Mother’ was synonymous to ‘love’. When he found the love he had always craved for… in me… he did not know the age of a mother… how old will she be… just knew that he defined ‘love’ as ‘mother’… He found his ‘mother’ in me.
I was eager to go in and meet all the kids there. Some of the little ones, cheerful, not understanding what life hasn’t given them and not knowing the pleasures of the world beyond those walls. Their eyes … a vast ocean of innocence. Concealing God knows how many hopes and dreams for a lonesome life that has been bestowed upon them. Some other older ones, who were somber or perhaps too serious with the kind of circumstances they are put into and in an unfathomable thought as to what could be done next. But what is common to both of them is the blatant truth… denial of love.
I was walking past the garden where some children played merrily… I distributed some toffees to all of them. What could a toffee give them? A moment of joy until it melts away? What could we understand that these kids deserve something more than this… not a toffee to cheer them, not a new dress to make them feel elated, not a meal one time to pamper their taste buds… are we ready to give them what they really crave for? Not many of us are… we all look forward to be philanthropists … engaging ourselves in charitable works? But when will we understand that it is not the materialistic needs of these children that have to be satisfied but they need affection… true love, which most of us, by God’s grace, are lucky to have in life.
I just walked into one of the more secluded rooms of the orphanage. I saw, by the rays of sunshine creeping through the grilled windows of the room, a little boy sitting and watching the arbitrary movement of the dust particles play in the beam of light… Though only about 4 or 5 years of age … the sense of seriousness I saw in him was different from the others of his age. I went up to him, lay my hands on his little shoulder and asked him his name. He did not answer. I was told by one of the in-charges there, that this boy never was interested in playing around like other kids of his age. Always preferred to be in solitude and watch the sun rays through that window. I had a sudden urge inside of me. A desire to bring this boy out of this unpleasant world of his. I wanted him to smile and wanted him to see hope in life. I tried asking him a lot of questions… he was least interested. I never gave up as the urge within me was overwhelming. I gave him the toffee and decided that I would come here everyday to meet this little dark boy. I left that day. But it was as though I found a new meaning to my existence…
Early next morning I returned to that orphanage, to that row of secluded rooms and there I see by the window again… the little dark boy, whose voice I longed to hear, whose smile I longed to see and for whom I believe I was sent here. I reached for him… I see the toffee untouched lying on the floor beside him. I said, “hello little prince! I believe you didn’t like the toffee... Here... I got you another one today.” He just looked at me… as though he never expected to see me again… he took the toffee. I started talking to him. Asked him his name…he never told me… but this time he was paying attention to me… or perhaps, I must say, to the person who was paying attention to him. I was telling him my name, and about the toys I would get him, about all the nursery rhymes I would teach him and lots more. I left again that day after spending a couple of hours with him. I had a personal joy within me to be with him. And with the hope of seeing him again the next day I returned back home.
The next day I get back there to see… chocolate wrappers around him. Wrappers of those toffees that I gave him. I was so elated then. I went up to him… that day he responded to me for the first time. I heard his soft voice for the first time. His name… he never told me but he spoke a little… I would ask him if he would learn a few things from me… like colors, rhymes, drawing small pictures so on and so forth. He had a positive reply for all. I appreciated every tiny thing he did… his sketch of a flower to his match-stick men to the colours he successfully identified. Everything for which I clapped and I could see that little curve on his lips. He was my new-found happiness. He meant so much to me suddenly. He never told me his name… and neither did I ask thereafter because it didn’t matter anyway.
The following days saw our friendship grow… He talked to me... asked me questions wanted to learn more from me… I took him outside to the garden and played with him. He seemed to enjoy everything that was new in his life. I used to call him all sorts of pet names and pamper him a lot. Soon I could see that melancholic strain in his eyes every evening I left that place. I used to assure him my visit the next day. I just wanted to keep him with me always. But I was helpless… I was 19yrs old then. Just a student studying for Bachelors at a distant place and who would come here only during the semester break. I feared what would happen when I would leave that summer… more than me missing him I knew that he would face it harder there.
Anyways, keeping away those thoughts the visits kept on continuing … only he and I knew how much we meant for each other. Perhaps, I never knew as much as he did…
It was one day in the last week of my stay in that place; I went to visit him again. My parents had heard lots about him through me and so accompanied me to visit him. As usual he came up to me running…engulfed in joy… I just lift him high… and started our day’s games and little bit of studies. He was learning more… and enjoying every bit of this new phase in his life. I didn’t want to deprive him of all this that he was experiencing. So we were sitting there, he on my lap, facing me with his little legs around my waist and little hands around my neck… my hands holding him, we were just swaying to and fro … talking, laughing and having our own good time. We came up with a new idea of a game. I asked him questions and he would ask me back the same. Some things like favourite colour, favourite animal, and bird and so on. This was just to show my parents how much he learnt and how well he spoke. It was going on well… when he asked me, “How many siblings do you have?” I answered, “I have a brother (thinking of mine)…” and then... (I smiled at him) “Actually, I have two (considering him as the other)...” I thought I conveyed what I meant and hoped for him to be pleased on hearing that. The message was conveyed but I failed to see that smile, I love to see, on his face. He just looked into my eyes. I could perceive that fathomless ocean asking me something. An expression of his I couldn’t understand for the first time. His eyes expressed something so profound at that moment as tears welled up his eyes and he asked, “Can I ask you something?” … I said, “Sure dear…” I was concerned about what caused that little cheerful face to strain so much. The words that followed caught me in bewilderment and an unknown sense of bliss touched me. He asked, “Can I make you my mother?”…
Gouri B. Nair
21st May,2005
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Each one of us have our own way of defining love… most of us are blessed in life to be with our loved ones. When I saw that little dark boy, I felt the affection towards him as a friend and a little brother who I always wanted to take care of. I was 19 and he was 5. What more could this relationship mean anyway. But what most of us fail to realize is that…. The little boy was deprived of love. He knew one thing. That “Mother” was the ultimate sense of love. In fact, ‘Mother’ was synonymous to ‘love’. When he found the love he had always craved for… in me… he did not know the age of a mother… how old will she be… just knew that he defined ‘love’ as ‘mother’… He found his ‘mother’ in me.
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