“Didi, how did my parents look like?”
These were the words of a four year old girl. I took her in my lap and cried for an hour.
These were a part of the challenges that I faced in the early phases of my life. I was a Science side student and I took up to work for an orphanage in which kids were rescued from difficult and different circumstances. There were kids who were disowned after broken marriages, kids with abusive parents, orphans, and kids disowned by un-married underage girls. Our orphanage took them all under one roof and let go of them only after they were able to support themselves. Kids in our orphanage were never put up for adoption. For every child, a distinct plan was devised and based on their likes and skills - they were groomed in specific fields.
Being a very old organization, money was never a problem. Funds would come from people who were once orphans themselves and were part of this organization, from government agencies and also from political parties, which would time use the name of the organization for their political benefits every now and then.
I did not know how to respond to that sudden question that Namita threw at me. I cried; it was very confusing. Namita also started crying; for a 4 year old it was hard to see an adult cry. She was an orphan left at our place by the local police. As far as I remember, she was disowned by her mother. But it was a question that has to be answered. The void in her heart needed some explanation until she grew up to understand why it happened to her. I told her stories of God and Goddesses, how beautiful they looked like, and that that was how her parents looked were.
I always expected kids to come and ask me question like this on my weekly visits. Some used to ask where their parents are right now. Some asked about why their parents fought so much. The questions were endless and the answers were very few. We made the young ones to pray to God as they believed their parents were with God.
My life changed when Arun came into the orphanage. It was one of the usual court hearings where orphanage representatives would go. There would be a notice from court and kids without any relatives would be legally handed over to our organization. Arun was a special case and the police were not best people to handle a 7 year old kid.
Arun’s father was a business-man and his mother was a house-wife. Over a usual family tiff, Arun’s father has beaten up his mom and later in the fury killed her mother with bare hands. Seeing his wife dead, Arun’s father shot himself in front of Arun.
Arun was 6 back then. He lost his voice from that moment.
When I read the case study (as they used to call it), I realized the child has been in and out of different orphanage for almost a year without a trauma-care after what he had been through. All the orphanages had not treated him well as he wasn’t the obvious choice for adoption.
Initially, Arun was not responding to any of the care and treatment shown by the workers and the doctors. He would sit idle in one corner and would show no interest in anything going around him. Almost a month went by and none of my visits helped him come out from the shell.
My mother was never interested in the activity I had taken up along with my studies. She would crib that I should indulge in normal girl-like activities. After every visit this would be the reason of her quarrel with me. But when I question her on these so-called “Girl-Like” activities, she would change the topic. My mother wasn’t a bad person; all she needed was an eye opener. Arun came to my rescue. (I am still not sure who came for whose rescue).
It took me long to convince the organization people, but seeing no change in Arun’s condition over the past one month, they allowed me to take Arun to my home. It was the best month for my mom. In the next one month, I saw my mom feeding, playing, cleaning and loving Arun like her own child. For the first time she saw the right picture, why I liked to spend my weekends at the orphanage rather than at home. Arun liked my company, but I was still unable to see the smile on his face. He has started showing signs of interest but without any emotions. And yes, Arun had no problem in speaking; Doctors said his voice-box has no problems. He just refused to speak.
The month ended and my mother packed Arun neatly back to the orphanage. After reaching the orphanage other kids were very interested in all the stuff Arun got from my mom. Somehow in this one month, one of the workers has spoken out about Arun’s parents and the killings.
The kids knew about Arun’s parents. I won’t say other kids acted evil, because it actually acted as the trigger in Arun’s revival, but kids in private started teasing Arun and making fun of him. The month long effort at my place went down the drains. Arun was once again back to his state of indifference. He would sit in one corner staring on people around him; like he could see everything but did not want to register anything.
Then one day…
“Didi, why did my father kill my mom and himself?” I turned around to see Arun with tears in his eyes. I knew my joy has no bounds. It took him almost 2 years to speak his pain out. Ironically, he spoke about the incident exactly on the same date his father killed himself and his wife 2 years ago.
I wanted to hug Arun and cry along with him. I wanted to gather everyone around and show them that he can speak. But before that I had to heal the wound he had in his heart for 2 long, painful years. I took him out, where the kids were playing and asked him if he wanted the answer. He was big enough to understand my question. He nodded his head while wiping the tears with his shirt.
I told Arun, “At times we all get so angry that we never know what we are doing. My mother scolds me and I many times shout back. That is why we all ask you not to fight. Not to get angry about things. For grown-up it is harder, that is why we ask you to cultivate this habit from early childhood.”
It was Arun who soon became the consular for many fights. He would run up to me and ask for two lollypops and go back to kids who were fighting. He would pull them apart and tell them, “Look you can both either fight and end up killing each other like my parents did, or you can take this lollypop.”
From a person who didn’t talk for 2 years and was never liked among other kids, he became everyone’s friend. He remembered each and every story my mother read to him and he would read them to the young ones. Arun was 8 but he acted 18.
He gave me magic wand, the ultimate solution, the belief never to give up. At times when I felt down and tired of doing something I was failing in, one thought of him and two lollypops would come in front of my eyes. He became my strength.
***
Now you would be wondering why I am writing so much about Arun. It’s been almost fifteen years since I saw Arun or any of the other orphanage’s people. I moved on with my life, got a career in Architecture. After that got married and now have two kids. My husband and I regularly talk about the prospects in architecture and interior design. But each time I will turn it down. He doesn’t like me not following my career. And again no one else but Arun came to my rescue.
I received a letter which was addressed to me but had no communicating address. It all pointed to the orphanage where I have once lived and learned. Talking about the past, talking about the things I did for the kids. It asked me to visit this place on my birth day. I wasn’t as keen initially of going as my husband knew very less about the orphanage but then there was something along with the letter – two lollypops.
Each time a kid walks out of the orphanage as a woman/man, she/he has to select a date when all kids can gather and throw a party. Arun chose my birthday.
I went there along with my family, my Husband and my two kids (a boy and a girl). All the old people were happy to see me. And yes, Arun was very happy to be around me. He had finished his studies and still acts as consul to many of his friend’s problems. It was a fun filled party and Arun promised he would visit me someday. He said goodbye to me and then handed over my kids one lollypop each and said, “I hope you two don’t fight with each other”.
On my way back, I noticed a change in my husband. He was a new man. The smile in the corner of his lips and the glitter in his eyes were playing with me. It is one of the occasions when a man bows down to his wife. He understood the reason why I did not want to pursue my career any more. He knows that I want my family, my children to learn all the values I have given to those kids. He knows it all now, just that we never have to say anything about it to each other…
Author’s Note
Author has tried his best to depict the life of a little warrior. We all talk about the fast life and the world outside. But everyday millions of kids (secure or insecure ones) fight their own battle. May be we all have something to learn from them?
