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'Making
a Difference'
The
faded yellow building, that had evidently seen better times, stood
right opposite a slum area in a prominent part of the city. Small
urchins, half-clad, with runny noses, were playing boisterously,
amidst the sauntering cows and buffaloes, blissfully oblivious to
the all-pervading foul smell around them.
She
stepped into the building, and, immediately, was greeted by the
sight of several pairs of small, curious eyes turned in her direction.
Smiling somewhat half-consciously at those small children, She walked
right up to the first floor, lugging her heavy yellow jute bag that
was threatening to burst at its seams any minute; and looked at
her watch. 10.30 a.m. Good! She was right on time! She met the Principal
at the entrance to the hall who received her with a huge smile and
ushered her into a room down the hall --the hall where she was to
spend the next three hours of the day.
Several
sun-burnt women, typically clad in plain cotton sarees, were chattering
and laughing loudly. There was a sudden hush as She entered the
room along with the Principal. They were expecting her. The Principal
left, but only after enquiring if She would need anything else.
Politely declining her offer, She turned her attention to the women
and introduced herself in Tamil and asked them for their names.
Some of them replied shyly. She then, began to empty the contents
of her bag - organdy cloth, crepe paper, wire, thread, Fevicol,
etc., as they waited patiently. Then She began to teach them…
Even
as She started this, two more women, similarly dressed, came and
joined them, and, as the 'class' proceeded, many others followed
suit. Towards the end, She found about twenty-odd enthusiastic voices,
excitedly talking, all at the same time, about their newly-found
skill!
'Miss!
Miss! How is this rose that I have made?' 'Miss! Do you know why
I have chosen red? Because it's for Love. (Giggle!)' 'Miss! Don't
you think that mine is the best?' 'Miss! Have I tied this right?'
'Miss! Where did you buy this cloth?', etc., etc.
She
found herself feeling a lot of respect for all these women - by
just looking at them, one couldn't possibly fathom the mental agony
and the severe hardships they were enduring all through their lives
- after all, life surely isn't a bed of roses, more so, when you're
poor and when your child is mentally retarded…
She
started to feel very glad that she had volunteered to teach craft
at the Madhuram Narain Centre, in her spare time, to all these under-privileged
women to whom Life has dealt a raw deal.
And
as she came away from the old building, thinking contentedly, of
how excited all of them were when they completed making their roses,
of how something she had never thought of as extra-ordinary could
be such a source of immense joy, especially to such mentally tormented
souls, it suddenly dawned on her! She, too, had learned something
- something truly priceless in return from them - that Life is beautiful,
so beautiful that every moment of it, however trying it may seem,
is truly worth living.
And
how do I know this? Because I …am She.
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