Anvitha

Why would an IT employee spoil her Saturday sleep? Why do these Companies make weekends as targets? Though my backache and six days stressful work never supported to get up, I had to. There was a charity art exhibition held at municipal hall and we people were supposed to be there since our company was a co-sponsor.

          “For Anvitha” an exhibition for the welfare of kids. Walking through the room I saw a number of out of box imaginations. One portraits Jesus, the good Shepherd holding a girl’s hand and guiding her than a lamb in his hands, other one has a girl lighting up a candle, and the candle eventually lights up many of them. And finally the one I liked the most, also made me buy, a mentally challenged girl looking out from a bus window, and watches a group of teen college girls well dressed, stylish and all set to rock. This picture I couldn’t leave it back there for a reason. What might be that girl’s thinking when she looks at normal teen girls of her age. It limited my thinking. I couldn’t come to conclusion. Nowhere was an introduction about the artist. Students of St. Ann’s school, some blind, some dumb, some handicapped, some mentally challenged and some normal students wearing a “For Anvitha” tee explained us all our doubts and guided us. I asked the small around me 'may I please know who Anvitha is ?'. She would meet you soon was the only reply I received. 

          As we finished filling those masterpieces into our eyes, buying some of them, we were asked gather for the formal function. A room full of techie people and their tech gossips. While the team holding the responsibility of the event talking about it, other part of us were sitting busy with our smart phones. I turned the neck around and I see people updating their status on fb about their visit to charity function. ‘Why not I have one?’ I pulled out my phone, clicked a photo of the picture I just bought. When I was about to upload the function started with a ‘very warm good evening’.

          With few people on dais the MC introduced the main artist of the day. “Anvitha a student of class 10 at St. Ann’s School”, with no time I turned up the picture and saw the signature art by Anvitha. A girl got up and moved towards the microphone.

          A girl with tightly tied hair, a short gown, with the black shoes, and it won’t leave anyone on doubt that she is mentally challenged, stood in front of us. As none expected she spoke more confidently and seemed brave enough. She explained what the theme “For Anvitha” stands for. Anvitha means ‘Gracious Life’ and this event is held to provide such a gracious life to many more like me. ‘I have got one; let me give one’, she said when she stopped.

          At next the MC introduces an admirable personality, none other than Anvitha’s  mother. A decent looking lady, in a traditional south Indian saree, having a gorgeous smile and honest eyes going to tell us how she conveyed this art exhibition to the world.

          ‘Dear friends’ she approached our minds calling us friends. Those were the days of my pregnancy, having a kid in her womb a mother lives in a continuous dream land for a longest duration of nine months.  Soon after the sixth month my husband had a transfer to Bombay, with no choice I packed with him. Those were not the days of modern medical equipment, without my knowledge the baby within me grew normal but with a special brain.

          After her birth we saw uncommon moments from all normal kids. Sometimes she cried all night, when started walking she had no fear of fire, the more I told her not  to touch the things she wanted to touch them. She would put all random things she gets in her hand to mouth and eats them up. With no time we had realized she was not like all other kids we knew, not as common as all the kids in surroundings is the better sentence.

          When she was eligible for the school age we admitted her into a school nearby where all our neighbour kids started their school. From the first day itself we heard complaints of her hitting someone, she spitting at the teacher and we had to change the school in the next academic year, since they couldn’t handle her that’s the time given by school principal. My husband went on searching a new school for her every year. But we were not able accept the fact that we have a special star among us, we just felt each moment why do we have such a kid? Why our kid has this kind of situations to face.

          When I took her to school the crowd around us would look at us, the looks weren’t normal. I was shy to walk with her. Sometimes she made horrible mess pulling some girl’s dupatta, crying for the chocolate in other kid’s mouth, pulling my hair in public, running across the signal escaping from my hand. I’d limited visit to relative’s houses, friend’s parties. All neighbour kids would come to me and say ‘Anvitha, hit me.. Anvitha pulled my hair, and that and this.. ‘. Sometimes I went out of control and beat her up like an animal, soon it would leave me in tears. Sometimes she beat me back, sometimes she cried but which left me in tears is what she did most of the times, she would remain silent no matter how much I beat her, and after sometimes she sits at a corner and weeps. Which mother on this hell earth would love to see such kind of situation?

       










   While the ladies in neighbourhood suggested me some Pujas, I offered them in various temples. They did not help. My Anvitha was still the same. Some said behind my back and some directly to me that it’s our ancestor’s karma, or fruit of our sins. They said even front of Anvitha about it. And by god’s grace her heart or brain doesn’t say ‘ OK’ to such a belief. She did not ask me like any other kid who would curiously ask, ‘what that aunty was talking about, mom?’ Probably Anvitha did not care. But I cried cursing my fate, wept all over nights and wet the pillow. Sometimes Anvitha herself comforted me telling ‘they are just too silly people with silly thoughts’ what her dad had told her.

          And the school was equal to hell for her. I and my husband would get calls in between their class times to please take Anvitha back home for they could not handle her that day. At school other kids did not accept her. May be once she had hit someone, spoilt someone’s homework from then for any mistake she was to be blamed. And teachers constantly beat her. She would protest and get home for that.

          There was no difference in public transports also. She would peek out from the bus, scream suddenly and call someone’s names randomly and whole passenger crowd is behind her. They start laughing at her she wouldn’t know that they are making fun of her; she also would laugh with them. They left me in confusion many times, who is normal and who is not?

          I remember an incident at textile shop when Anvitha too small as 5 years old. She saw another kid of her age and approached her to play when I was busy doing some shopping. Suddenly I hear a sound of someone falling. It was my Anvitha and that kid’s mother had pushed her away. I ran to get her up, by then Anvitha had stood up, cleaned her hands for any dust and started walking back to me. I hugged her saying “sorry Anu... “. She did not respond, I don’t know what she felt also.

          Public places like cinema theatres, in kids play room there; if I took Anvitha there it had no difference. Some parents would come suddenly from nowhere and take their kids away. May be they predetermined that my daughter would harm them. Not a single place she had a good smile welcome and acceptance, finally she got one at St. Ann’s School.

          And after her class 6 some things changed drastically. Till then Anvitha did not wanted to go to school, her stubborn fights to avoid schools had stopped. She started getting up soon to get ready. Only few kids who showed courtesy to play with her had no complaints anymore. She started learning her homework, moreover I saw her hanging with color pens, crayons, paints and more likely she would catch a charcoal piece and draw random things. Someday she had her mother on saree on her drawing sheet and other days her house. More than everything though all had problems with her she loved everyone. She drew a sketch and said it’s her old school classroom and said the kids in that are her old friends. And surprisingly we had no complaints from school rather they called us for appreciation on her kids behaviour. St. Ann’s school had won Anvitha. 

          She never came back home thereafter for hurting someone in the class, she had no problems like before that teachers would beat her. I started preserving her drawings. They improved day after day and today you see what she is. I must tell thanks to St. Ann’s management the main sponsor of this event for giving a ‘Gracious life’ to my child and many more. Its great place where all kids study with no respect to disability but taking the best out of their abilities

          All you gathered here as a charity, you must have done it for the sympathy. But I will tell you my child or any other child in this school does not require it. In talents they stand somewhere in higher place than all of us self called ‘normals’. At kindness to each other these kids are just like Mother Theresa. All they require from us is acceptance. They too are part of this world. They too have feelings. They also are just like any of us but with some awkward parts in their body. But if God was so confident enough to send them to the world, then he must have given them some more gifts that none of us have, to live better and stronger. You see blinds, deaf, dumb and handicapped, you can only see but they feel, you just hear; they taste the talk, you talk but they express, you think they have no legs and can't walk but they have wings and able to fly. It's matter of attitude, they need some support and will live on their own effort. And finally thank you for helping them in providing ‘Gracious Life’ to many more.

          Now, for me it wasn’t matter of Saturday sleep or fb updates. I had sympathy for myself, God never did any mistakes while creating us, so ‘called normal people’ but we did fun of the one did not get them completely.  It was the worst state of our brain, poor setting of eye lenses, tragedy of our heart that we did not accept them, considered them as if they are not eligible to be part of us. I turned towards my right side, tears were plugged in my eyes, and hardly a voice came out ‘I’m sorry’ and the blind boy sitting replied ‘Ma’am now you know Anvitha who made that portrait you just bought’ I smiled at him and hugged him. No more he was a disabled kid but he was just like me and greater than me. It was my sign of acceptance and support to the cause ‘For Anvitha’. I would like to be the part of their Gracious Life, do you stand 'For Anvitha'? 

Inspirational video from Troy McClain teaching people about life lessons learned from people with disabilities   that are beyond the obvious.

  Mithra 

             Friday nights define me so well. Sneak into a city club house on that day. You find a guy holding a guitar someday, on keyboard sometimes and many times I steal the show on drums. I have just these magical fingers which will say Yes to any musical instruments. There is a true heart makes me sing so well, though carrying so many lies that I have told myself. So goes my weekend spending times for what I love to do. Visit to church and sing for the choir, lunch with Fr. Hilary and a tasteless but eatable (!) dinner in the hostel and an awesome day with buddies, we would eat drink laugh shout scream fight give Gaalis each other and end up Sunday in The Boys Hostel istyle.

            When comes a Monday, one can hardly get up on that day. And obviously we guys are the last ones to get into the classroom. Our teachers have five minutes dedicated for us with their common and byhearted dialogues. May be our brain doesn't interprets that, it neither makes us feel bad nor makes us start early to the class.

             The great engineering class filled some 60 and odd heads. Half of them including me wouldn't have been there if money did not matter. These would have been artists, dancers, clerk, farmer and someone who is not an engineer if they could be what they wished to be and also if girls had no requirement saying ‘well educated person’ in their marriage resume! With most of us doing which doesn't take us into account, had filed up backlogs on our heads. With some lecturer’s important questions, notes from girl’s and invigilator’s mercy upon us we cleared them at least on the deadline.

            So there is little for me to study. I’m not meant for it is the first and important thing I have realized in the first semester itself. Still I’m carrying it because I have been bound by the campus. Living the campus is not a new thing for me. I have been doing it ever since I can recall things of my existence. In some campus boarding school, I learnt to eat, to dress up, fought with seniors for our rights, when kids at home started with their toys we boys started with basketball. When they started using the crayons we moved our fingers on the guitar. There was no mother since I lost her in the small age only. A priest warden took care of us and there were Sumathi Akka and Rethu Akka who hugged us when we showed them some medals we won, some prizes we got and for some compliments we got in the school.

            Dad was remarried for a new mother to me. After marriage he was more of her husband than my dad. No complaints with him since he has a new family. He never made me feel bad on money matter, he sends enough of it. Whenever he comes down to India I get lot of things for me. But ever since I have joined boarding I did not go to my house. Till my grandparents were alive they took me their place. Unfortunately they disappeared from this world in an accident together, when I was in fourth standard. From then I lived my school days holidays and all the days with Fr.Hilary. And before this vacation he also left me. Dad’s visits have become very rare since I have grown up.

            When my friends go to their home during holidays, they describe their mother’s love. Though I feel like crying for the fate I have, I hold it and eat whatever they have sent for their "Mithra". Mithra makes a joke and everybody laughs again. Mithra doesn't show up his pain to anyone. He never says he misses his family. Never even asks what mothers are like!!?  It’s however a four days world doesn't last long why spend it with cries. 

            We ate drank laughed shouted screamed played fought and gave Gaalis to each other and slept, all except for Mithra and he tried to but he could not.  

I did not sleep, I couldn't,  My grief created a cart on my heart, it was heavy and I wanted an end. From the very famous escape from the hostel I moved out. Heading towards the railway track I decided ‘Mithra do not talk to anyone; even yourself, you may change the decision’. Laying on the track for the train to pass which I was sure quiet close by I said my mother and Fr.Hilary I’ll see them soon.

Ever since I know everyone has a mother who is an angel. I have tried imagining mine. What she was like? How much she loved me ! how many times she would have hugged me saying “my son…”. Nothing I know not even one single clue except one family photo that my dad mailed me on my request. Fr.Hilary was only person with whom I have cried telling things; he would console me no matter how many times I went with the same problems. He was only reason I could survive till now. I spent my holidays spending time near his grave. There was no place for me in the boarding without him and I had returned to hostel within some days and spent days there almost alone.

I don’t know why suddenly a thought went in my mind what if my mother had seen me laying on the railway track, she would come running to save me!! My conscious mind heard Fr. Hilary “ Mithra just jump out of it, Son, Soon”. For the closest siren of the train I had just kept my legs out of the track, and watched the entire train passing close to me without blinking.

I remembered the song Better Life

When you fall; when you break

When you wish you didn't feel

Keep your head; don’t forget

It's the pain that makes us real.

      I got up from that place moved to the hostel. I decided the new life. A survive in-spite the pain inside. I said "I deserve a better life, from now, to forever".  It was still dawn. There was no wake up calls even during the exams but there was a search for their missing Mithra. Guys had come out of the hostel for the search; though I had showed off I’m fine they had seen tears getting stored in my eyes on the previous night.

            I literally couldn't speak when they hugged me and scene became cool after hours.

            Though we have sang a thousand songs together from then, have been late to  the class as usual, managed to clear the subjects using all the methods we invented and inherited from the seniors, and they have tried to make me happy taking me to their homes, I still don’t dare telling them the foolish thing I was about to commit.