Children Of Lesser God

When the plans of  Arsh’s, my grandson, first birthday celebrations,  were being hatched out in the home/family, everybody was unanimous about one thing, that it’ll not be celebrated in the traditional way. Where hundreds of young kids, with their parents ,'Not so middle-aged as yet’, are invited in hoards. Everybody is happy in general. Parents for getting a chance to blah blah about their princes/princesses as if their God’s gifts are just short of being angels, [they are, they are and I adore them too,] but the parents ughs! And the umpteen number of Aunts, Uncles and to top the cake, though grandmas but abhorring right from the ‘G’ of grandma, types. 

And in this melee of assorted nuts where does  it leave the poor creature, ‘The Birthday Boy?’ Incessantly crying, while a beehive of relatives, near dear ones, are in a race to show how much do they adore the young chap. Oblivious of their overtures though intentionally good, the poor child is suffocated due to the deluge of affection showered on him, that he takes the umbrage of only Armour he knows the best, incessant crying at the first go! And the reactions of the crowd change immediately. From, Sympathetic suggestions about 'How to pacify the poor chap' to ‘He’s going to be a cry baby, how are they going to manage?’ Give a break! The child is only one year old and much water has yet to pass under the bridge.

So every single thought was given a big cut and it was decided to celebrate it with orphaned and destitute children of the ashram. It's run by one of the acquaintances. Not many people were informed, but those who knew from the inner circle lauded the idea and said ‘ Nice work. Let  God be with you’. Never believed in God consciously so it was far from seeing the God in our small deed.

In two cars we actually landed upon them. Just by the Express Highway, in a government building, in a ground floor apartment around 40 children were staying in an area of not more than 1500 to 2000 sq. feet. The first gulp appeared in the throat on seeing the children in that cramped area. To add to already brewing apprehension, we were told, that around 20 have already gone on a picnic in Aarey's Chhota Kashmir, on a similar treat by somebody and are expected back any moment. They came and the place became still smaller….. but all those chirpy, exuberant kids were not bothered about what was being transpired in our minds and went on with their chirpy nonchalance. Not to break the harmony, we too joined them. Though most of them were in their most mischievous age, around 6 to 10 yrs of age, none was a brat, everybody was disciplined and everybody sat obediently on the slot earmarked for them on the floor. As soon as we were introduced and our purpose of the visit was told, everybody in unison shouted ‘Hey, Happy Birthday Arsh!’ In due course after cutting the cake, I was made grandpa,Saket was dada, Neha was Kaku. Their hunger for simple touch was so genuine, that in spite of not being in the league of PDA, public display of affection, I could not steer away, on the contrary eyes welled up for their simple need and my inability to come up with the emotional support they longed for!

The story of these children of lesser God was not to end with this episode. Another chapter of this emotional saga was yet to be written. And this time, it was not a small visit of 2 hours, but we were to stay for 4 days in the ashram and so the encounters were going to be of a definitely different kind!

A youngish boy, hardly in his late teens when faced with the unprecedented situation, started an asylum for children, starting with his own niece as the first entrant. Over the years a smallish seedling has now grown up into a full-fledged tree, where more that hundred boys and girls without either of the parents are being tutored by him to make them self-sufficient to wedge a war against that cruel thing, the life and the world that encompasses it!

Deep inside the interiors of Maharashtra, after a grueling 9 hours drive from Mumbai we reached the place that welcomes you with open arms, no, open Heart!

Saana, my daughter had been over there many times in the past, so immediately the clamor started for her,” Saana Didi Aali, Saana Didi Aali”. Once they came to know that I was her father, so naturally, I became their grandpa. And the clamor increased. In no time we became one with the group to celebrate ‘Holi’ with those chicky kids.

On day second, after spending some more time with them, I felt like being a voyeur prying on their lives finding for the chinks in their Armour. Tantrums are part of childhood. To be selfish is second nature to being human. Freedom for everything, especially to say No when one does not agree, to eat, to play, to whatever, is child's birthright.  Physician in me started picking up the things sooner than later.

Every child was extremely, [singularly, every child, well beyond reasonable limits] well behaved. No, they were not toys with wound spring, they were playing, prancing around, humming in low tones, in short doing everything that a child in a normal environment would do. But there were no childish fights, no voice above the acceptable limit and cooperation beyond hilt. Instead of one girl carrying two buckets to water the plants, 3 to 4 girls used to form a chain carrying 3 to 4 buckets at a time, every girl holding two buckets on either side. I felt like taking a snap for the posterity but it was definitely encroaching upon their privacy, rather it was crueler to en-cash on their plight to extract sympathy, maybe a crude word because they were not aware of it. On the contrary they were enjoying every bit of the ritual heartily giggling, laughing all along the way!. So I dropped the idea.

Their hunger for human touch is insatiable. They cling on to your body from every possible appendage and try to attract attention to whatever mundane they have to convey. Being brought up in totally different milieu, where extreme body touching is strictly no-no, at one point it started becoming too much for me. But out of being sheer couth and of course diplomacy I could not shrug them off and went on enduring them, really, till they were called for some prayer or meditation time.

To watch six-year-old parading in glitzy out of the fashion, two sizes over dress, discarded by some elite from Mumbai was pathetic but the glint in her eyes just to be in that glitzy dress was unmistakable. And I felt I must look for more like this rather than searching for the lacunae.

And there were many.

One smartish boy was a bit apprehensive. On interrogating said, “Today’s paper might be tough.”. He was appearing for his 10^th English language paper. There were many such girls and boys either appearing for or preparing for higher studies. One of them had the dream to be in the medical profession!

And that was the reward for that teenage boy of yore, who himself dreamed to start with and made others like him to dream and work hard to convert them in reality!

I had a good childhood when it was, but realized way afterwards that it was far from it. We were deprived of many good things in life though, were very well within the possible reach. Now I feel though you do not have a good set of people as your parents, they are there at least for the namesake, and it makes a hell lot of difference to your psyche, the way you are sculpted psychologically to face the future, to face the life. When none is there, what you have to go through I experienced in the ashram.

Suppose this boy would have thrown the towel in, there and then? No, but he did not and so now more than 100 children are aspiring to have a future, a better future with their heads held high in dignity and working with you and me, shoulder to shoulder.

Let there be more like him!

P.S: Names of the place and the person being held back to protect their honor and integrity.