A Promise!

It was a lazy Sunday morning, the week before Christmas. A hard earned weekend for me, after a crazy week and a late night at office.

The phone rang flashing the name 'ABR'. It was only 8 am. I knew the debate would begin.

ABR, aka Aswin and I were volunteers for HUGS camp, an NGO that 'Helps children Go To School'. It had more to do with play learning, for the underprivileged kids. The recent camps were at the Royappuram Boys home – a government’s shelter for orphans, children of convicts, kids who ran away or were sent away and so on. We heard about HUGS through Facebook (these days I turn to FB for everything – for gossips from friends’ circles to the latest make-up tips, from current affairs to international news. FB has got it all covered!)

Both of us were pretty lazy to wake up, and spoke with our eyes closed, under the pretext that that would help us catch on lost sleep, while our lips gibbered away to glory!

I waited for him to say "Let's chuck it and go back to bed". That way the blame would not be on me for backing out. Neither would be the guilt, of disappointing a bunch of kids who looked forward to meeting us every fortnightly.

I guess he read my mind. So instead he said, "You decide Geethu. Am game whatever!"

Smart a _ _ !
Spoke like a true man. Left it to the woman to decide. Now I was stuck.

And trust me, it was tough to have decided not to go and yet say, 'Ok fine. I'll meet you in 30'. But, that's what I said.

So there we were riding, that cold December morning, riding from Royapettah to Royappuram, (a distance of almost 18 kms) on the most dilapidated bike ever! (I know that by putting this up, I risk my chance to be ever spotted riding pillion).
Aswin spoke as he rode, about old Madras and the roads and how the shortcut we took would help us get there faster. While he was thanking the British for building the shortcut roads, I was cursing them - a longer ride meant more time to sleep). But my desperate attempts would anyways go futile, for Aswin ensured that not a single gutter or pothole went 'unattended'.
The ride lasted well over 45 minutes, thanks to the drizzle in between. As he parked the bike within the compound of the home, many hands extended out towards him, calling him "Maddy", "Madhavan", "Anna" fondly. The children inside the shelter seemed happy to see us.

We walked in to see Karthik briefing the new volunteers about HUGS. Renita meanwhile was being her chirpy self, organizing the set of toys to be distributed amongst the volunteers. It was my third trip and I felt like a pro already.

The children assembled at the hall. Christmas was round the corner and a few kids were decorating the hall. Somebody had to keep the rest of them engaged till the play session would begin. Aswin, Sidharth, Amit and I sat amongst the kids.

A few children, who were familiar with us, thanks to the earlier sessions, came closer and asked us how we were and went on to tell us what they had for breakfast and so on. The others new kids watched on in awe. It would take a little time for them to start mingling.

For a few were shy.
Few scared.
Few indifferent.
Few differently abled. (deaf, dumb, blind, physically or mentally challenged.)

And there were a few more, who could talk, see and hear. Yet they couldn’t mingle with the rest
of the kids. For they spoke languages no one could decipher – it could have been - Assamese, Gujrathi, Konkani or even Oriya.
The huge responsibility of talking to the children and locating where they came from, based on their mother tongue, fell on the translator appointed by the government. And he spoke only 2 languages - Tamil and Hindi.
The lucky ones were traced back to their homes. Those who were not would stay back at the home. They were provided with food and shelter and education. And those who could not be traced just stayed on. Until they learnt Tamil.
One more reason why HUGS needs more volunteers, who speak different Indian languages!

Coming back to the 19th of December, 2010. Renita and Monica had split the toys for each group, while we split the kids into groups of 4 to 5.

That's when I noticed Aswin sit with a boy, hardly 10 years old. He was crying clinging on to the window and refused to budge and mingle with the rest of the gang. I offered to help. The 'woman' in me had woken.

I held him close. But he moved away, as large drops of tears kept wetting his faded T-shirt. His answers were restricted to nods and wipes (of his tears, of his nose and occasionally his T-shirt). I had to ask him several questions like
'Did your friend fight with you?'

'Did you not eat this morning?'

'Did someone at the camp scold you?'

'Do you not like the rains?'
'Did you hurt yourself'

… to finally figure out the following:

The boy had been at the home for hardly 2 days.
His father had left him there, for he could not provide for his education.
He had lost his mother earlier this year.
His sister was also put up at an orphanage nearby.
He did not like the place (that was the easiest to figure out).

I did not know how to manage the situation. Do I just sit with him or do I try console him and make him cry further. Renita and Karthik offered to take over. And whatever they did, they really seemed to be good at it. For the boy was soon playing and laughing. He was introduced to the rest and they were asked to make him feel at home. Many heads nodded and we knew they would keep their word.

Meanwhile, I had a bunch of loyals from the previous session waiting to play the Indianised version of the Monopoly, with me. They loved the feel of the money, though fake. They refused to play any other game. They waited patiently for me to divide currencies among them - denominations of 10,000s, 5,000s, 1,000s, 500s, 100s, 50s and 10s. And as we played, I observed that this time they were better organized. They were well-planned about how to spend their money and highly enthused to purchase plots and construct houses. I was amazed at their
willingness to help friends who turned paupers.

At HUGS, we make use of games like building blocks, memory cards, snake and ladder, dominoes, to teach the desolate kids something. Anything!
But it often ends the other way around. The kids teach the privileged us much more than what any school or college can offer us!

After another play and learn session, a fulfilling session which lasted 3 hours, I walked out and waved goodbye. I could hear them call out "Akka, we will wait for you... Please come fast for the next session" I nodded my head.
Only to hope I'd keep my word!


Geethu