Happily Ever After In an Orphanage

Living together in a family under one roof is a dream of everyone. Family is not a social institution but a plethora of non-stop chatters, loads of happiness and comforts, silly fights for candies, timely advices and compromises, warm hugs and kisses, merrymaking, fun-loving siblings, weekend trips, midnight birthday surprises, Mom cooked food, family secrets, joyful give and take, gentle caress, poking fun and so and so. No matter what you are or how you are if you have a strong-bonded family.

 I have always thanked Almighty for giving me a loving father, caring mother and a friendly sister.

Our family celebrates every momentous occasion. Be it birthday, wedding, christening, anniversary or even jack-pot winnings.  Unlike previous years we thought of celebrating our parent's wedding anniversary in a nearby orphanage managed by nuns.

Unfortunately, arranging family celebrations in orphanages have become increasingly fashionable nowadays whereas our intention was purely noble.  

With tons of excitement I began counting down to the day. Umpteen questions used to flash across my mind those days.

Would this celebration with less-fortunate be a show-off of my family’s fortunes?

Will the orphanage children be happy or sad when we celebrate with them?

 Will they also dream of a family like I have?

Finally the most-awaited lovely day arrived.

We packed a home-made German Black Forest cake. To make the day even more meaningful we bought chocolates, new clothes, toys and stationery for the orphanage children. Mama insisted us to wear decent casual clothes as we are visiting an Anāthālaya. She also suggested us to behave properly and not to speak or laugh out loudly there. Is Mama trying to create a holocaustic image of orphanage? I was puzzled. 

We set-off to the orphanage with our family friends and well-wishers.

In about a 30-minute drive, we reached SOS. It was a well-constructed large convent in a lush green environment surrounded by compound walls. Scripture verses in large letters were painted on the compound walls.

 Is it a Nun’s convent or a mansion? I whispered.

Whatever, No one feels like Lord or Lady of the manor in an orphanage.

I struck the convent bell. Three nuns in white habits followed by five cute kids opened the door. The kids wished my parents a very happy wedding anniversary in their sweet voice and presented a bouquet of mixed flowers. One of the nuns told us that the children made the bouquet themselves. Then, they took us to their dining hall.

On the way I found children learning sewing, knitting, quilting, glass painting, flower making and scrapbooking. Some seemingly senior students were teaching the younger ones. They were self-reliant one way or the other. My mother looked at me very sarcastically for not mastering any of these crafts in my entire life. I hang my head in shame and murmured, ‘you cannot blame me because there was no one at home to teach’.

We got into the dining hall. The children have scribbled the hall walls with markers and crayons. Full of creativity as if it is their own home. I wondered if there is no one to scold them for this supposedly mischievousness. While the nuns were proudly describing my mother how well their children draw on walls.  

I searched for children there. There wasn’t a single child. Empty benches and desks except our catering service boys. The clock struck 1 PM and children of different age groups came to the hall. They were all looking at us and saying something to each other. Some of them smiled at me as if I am familiar to them. I had a plastic smile on my face.

Can orphanage children smile? Will they gossip? Don’t they have ‘n’ number of issues to worry about? I presumed.

We opened the cake box and placed it on the table. A small boy came forward to help us arrange things. His name is Prakash. He asked us about the candles to be placed on the cake. Unfortunately, we had forgotten to take them. Both I and my sister started blaming each other for being irresponsible. The boy disappeared by this time and reappeared in another five minutes. He gave me multi-coloured long candles.

I asked him how come he managed to get those.

Prakash smiled and said, ‘It is from our store room. We store birthday candles’. His answer startled me.

I asked him again in a tone of suspicion.

‘Do you celebrate birthday?’ Of course, he replied undoubtedly. He continued, “We have midnight birthday surprises. We cut cake and distribute chocolates in our classes. Sister will give us new dress and also ask kitchen Ayah’s to prepare paayasam. A fun-filled day, indeed”.

He sarcastically asked me, ‘Chechi... Don’t you celebrate your birthday?’ I was dumbstruck.

He looked at my Sneakers and asked me, ‘Why do you wear boy’s shoes?’ I could not resist laughing out loudly.

I liked his tit for tat questions and answers. We became friends soon.

Like his name ‘Prakash’, he spread prakāśa in the entire hall by lighting up the candle on cake.

Papa and Mama cut the cake together. We cut it into small pieces again to share with the children. Inauspiciously, there weren’t enough pieces. Embarrassingly, I explained the situation to the Sister. She showed me something I ought to see. Literally, I rubbed my eyes in astonishment. The children were sharing the small pieces of cake with those who haven’t got. Exactly like me and sissy sharing things with each other.

We asked the catering service boys to serve the lunch.

To our surprise, somebody from the first row began the Sanskrit chant ‘Loka Samasta Sukhino Bhavantu’ and children repeated after her. I heard sister saying that before every meal they chant the same mantra.

‘Will there be any one in our hectic world to pray for all of us to be peaceful happy and free!?’ I thought.  

I saw some senior boys ensuring there is enough number of seats for all. Some elder girls placed small kids on their laps and fed them. When I was a kid my sister used to feed me like that. Children were cracking jokes and giggling. A little girl called out, "Aditi, I have got a leg piece. Would you like to have it?" I really liked the affection they have for each other.
Caring is sharing. Certainly, one must imbibe the value of sharing from them.

Normally, I take a nap after lunch. I wasn’t feeling sleepy that day. After seeking permission from the Sister I went into one of their dormitories. Little Prakash also followed me. There, I found few girls making Rakhis using coloured handmade paper. Curiously, I asked them whom are they making Rakhis for.

“For our brothers”, replied cute Little Nisha.

“Are your brothers staying here?” I interrogated.

“Yes, they are”, answered Nisha.

“Chechi, Raksha Bandhan is not just celebrated among biological relations. I do not have a brother or sister of my own. I don’t remember who brought me to this orphanage. But, I am not alone. These are my brothers and sisters. We tie Rakhis on our brothers’ wrist every year. For me, human relations are precious than blood relations”, said one of the tallest girls in the group.

I felt like she finds a ‘permanent safe roof’ there in the orphanage.

I took one Rakhi and tied it on Little Prakash’s wrist. And called him by my lost brother’s name, “Savio”.

When I was about to move, I heard Nisha asking that tall girl the story she is going to tell her before bed. Imagining what would it be I paused there for a moment.

The tall girl said, ‘The Last Leaf’.

I grinned.

My little brother Prakash then took me to boys’ dormitory. They were playing chess and caroms. I noticed a boy named Kiran giving up the game to let another chap win. I did not question him because I saw the compassion for him in his eyes. There is a big showcase in the dormitory in which the trophies they have got are displayed. Prakash showed me some of his prizes and drawing books in his shelf. He even autographed and gifted his last year’s colouring book to me.

We then moved to the TV room. Boys and girls were watching an afternoon movie on Asianet. As I hoped, a tiny rowdie demanded that he wants to watch sports channel. I supposed a furious row while they settled the friendly dispute themselves.

Next to the TV room there is a good library. Children’s literature, comic books, science fiction, novels, religious and philosophical books were all there. I checked their library catalogue. No books remained untouched. I found a small group of children there too.

After that we went to their open ground. Many were playing cricket there. Some elder children were coaching the younger ones batting tricks and cricket tactics. They were also scolding and gently beating them. After all, such passionate punishments only concrete their relationship. Little Prakash also joined them. It seems cricket is his favourite sport.

The aroma of coffee percolating helped me to locate the kitchen premises. I found my mother and sister standing there talking to some children. It seemed one girl had been narrating her past. I looked at her. She wasn’t crying. Contentment and happiness are in her voice. She affectionately called the Sister, ‘sisteramma’ and Sister called her ‘Anu’. I realized that each one of them have a pet name. 

Oops! I forgot to ask Little Prakash’s name.

It was time to leave the orphanage. No...It is no longer an orphanage. It is a joint-family abode. Altruism is the main pillar of their abode. Irrespective of their family backgrounds they live under one roof happily ever after.

Indeed an orphanage teaches the values of ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam’ -the whole world is one single family.