Those Eyes

Written in 2014

He left his shoes outside and entered the small mud dwelling. At the door, he and his friends were welcomed by a young lady with the thali (traditional plate with a lamp).He folded his hands and said ‘Namaste’ to acknowledge the reception. After entering, he looked around to see a small room with mud walls covered with semi-torn calendars and posters. In a corner, there was a small make-shift pantry with a few stained vessels. A wooden table with a broken leg rested against the wall and a couple of plastic chairs completed the furniture. Amid this rather somber surroundings and right in the middle of the room, sat the children. Ram put them in the age group of 2 to 7 or 8 years at the most. Apart from Kamalabai, the lady who greeted them, there were a couple of other ladies in the small room. Everyone were now staring at the visitors as if waiting for our next move.

Ram had always felt the urge to be involved in a social cause. Call it peer pressure or the desire to make a genuine contribution to society. While he had been donating money to various causes in the past, it was more on a whim rather than any sustained feeling of philanthropy. When he came to know about this NGO through a friend, he registered as a member on an impulse. After a year of passive participation, he decided to join one of their initiatives to feed impoverished kids in Mokhada, a rural district situated about 100 km from Mumbai. On the planned day, Ram and 2 of his NGO friends, Anand and Mahesh reached the place and met their local contact Shankar. Through him, they realized that Mokhada district had a number of small padas which was basically a colony of 10-15 huts. Each pada was separated by fields where the hutment dwellers worked as laborers. The kids of these laborers spent a few hours of every day in Government run aanganwadis which were very similar to ’Day-care’ facilities. Each aanganwadi generally took care of about 30 children and it was in one of these aanganwadis that Ram and his 3 friends found themselves on this particular day. Their NGO had already made arrangements for cooked food to be made available at each of these aanganwadis.

‘Kids, say Namaskar’, Kamalabai broke the impasse and in Marathi urged the children to greet the visitors.

The response was muted with hardly a couple of children responding to the request.

Ram looked around and folded his hands. “Namaskar”, he said as if to prompt the children to follow suit but apart from a few giggles, there was silence.

His friends joined in as well but with little success. Sensing that the attempt at a conversation was not going anywhere, Anand politely asked Kamalabai to start serving the food. Seeing the ladies take out the crumpled paper plates finally brought a smile on the faces of the children as if saying "Cut the formalities Gentlemen and get on with it".

Food was a modest helping of boiled rice with dal and a small portion of some vegetable. A mini papad enhanced the spread. Ram looked around to see the children shedding their earlier inhibitions and starting to eat the modest food in front of them. He smiled to himself while wondering at the huge disparity in needs and wants between the children in front of him and those from the world that he was coming from.  He bent down on his knees and tried to engage in a conversation with the kids. Some responded while some just smiled back and went back to the food. Some held the arms of possibly their elder sibling more tightly while some just ignored his attempts and nibbled at the food.

And then he saw her…..

She was seated in the corner, rather motionless, with an expressionless face. Not more than 5 years old, there was something about her which prevented him from taking his eyes off her. Was it her tattered clothes or disheveled hair? Was it her scowl or her statuesque demeanor? It was a few minutes before he realized it. 

It was her eyes...There was something very striking about them.

They seemed to be staring straight through him. It was almost as if...as if... he wasn't there. As he looked at them, they seemed to convey a plethora of emotions ranging from sadness to anger. Ram could not help but stare at those eyes which seemed to be screaming while she remained speechless.

After a few minutes of being in a kind of trance, he let out a feeble “What is your name?” in Marathi.

There was no answer and not even a hint of any change in expression. She continued to stare ahead as if she did not hear him. He repeated his question.

This time a child sitting next to her whispered, "Ranjana”.

“Ranjana. Is that your name?” Ram asked but the response or rather the lack of it remained the same.

He had spent a few minutes now attempting to get a response from Ranjana and thought it appropriate to move ahead. As he spoke to the other children, he kept turning back towards Ranjana and she continued in her almost meditative state completely oblivious to the frenzied activity going on around her. Finally, he got up and stood next to his friends who were capturing the moment in their cameras but his gaze was fixed on that little girl.

“Her name is Ranjana”. His thoughts were interrupted by Shankar’s voice.

“Huh”, he responded suddenly feeling awkward that someone had noticed his fixation on the little girl.

"Do you know her?", he asked turning his attention to Shankar.

Just as Shankar was about to respond, Anand suggested that they move on and head to the next aanganwadi.

Ram nodded and headed for the door. He turned around to take one final look at Ranjana. There she was sitting motionless in the corner with the plateful of food in front of her, still untouched.

On the way to the next halt, Ram reminded Shankar about his unanswered question.

"Sir, she lives with her mother in one of  the huts. They came here about a year ago. No one knows who her father is. Her mother works in the fields, but sir she drinks a lot.  Every night, she can be found in a drunken state somewhere and some villager has to get her home. She fights with everybody .There is a rumour that she has AIDS and many villagers want her out of here but  some villagers have pity on her child and hence she has survived so far"

Ram looked at his 2 friends in disbelief as he listened to Shankar. While Shankar was talking about her mother, his thoughts were about the little girl. How could life be so cruel to a child so young? No father and a non-existent mother. No one to hold her hand or give her a hug. She may not have eaten for many days and there was no one to ask her whether she was hungry.

Ram could not hold back his tears. Now he understood the expression on her face. She may not have smiled during her 5 years of existence in this world.  Those eyes were actually questioning her very existence.

The next few aanganwadi visits were a blur for Ram. He could not remove Ranjana and her eyes from his thoughts that day and for many days thereafter.

After about a month he could hold back no longer and on a Saturday, left on his own for Mokhada. This time, he carried some sweets and toys with him. He went straight to the aanganwadi that he had come here for. As he stood outside, he could hear Kamalabai telling the story of Lord Ram. He waited for a few minutes and then entered. Seeing him, the children fell silent. Kamalabai came forward with an enquiring look which suggested that she had not recognized him.

"Namaskar Kamalabai" he greeted her and continued "I had come here a few days ago alongwith a couple of friends". No luck.

"Shankar had brought us here".

That did the trick and she quickly apologized. She pulled a broken chair and beckoned him to sit.

Ram was however not paying attention to her. His eyes were already searching for Ranjana. And there she was.

Without acknowleding Kamalabai, he went straight to Ranjana and knelt in front of her.

He smiled and greeted her in Marathi "Ranjana, how are you?"

She looked at him in silence but as before, her eyes did the talking. He had earlier seen the pain in them but now he also knew the reason. He could now see in them a longing, possibly a desire to be loved. But did she know what love was? A mere 5 years and all she seemed to have experienced in her life so far was hatred.

Ram could not control his tears. He felt a sudden urge to give her a hug and comfort her but his urban sensibilities prevented him from doing that. He opened his bag and picked out a teddy bear.

"Ranjana, this is for you" he said.

She looked at the toy for a second and her expression changed ever so slightly.

As she extended her hand to take the toy, he could see a number of burn marks on them.

She took the cuddly toy in her hand and as if by instinct caressed it in a manner which seemed to convey her yearning. Ram stepped back not wanting to interrupt her moment of love.

And then she looked up and he could almost see a smile decorating her lips and a glint in her eyes.

This may have been the most precious gift that anyone would have given her. Not the toy but the feeling of being loved. Ram was relieved to see that there was still a child in her.

Ram suddenly realized it had been almost 15 minutes since he had entered the aanganwadi and he had not noticed anything apart from Ranjana. He quickly wiped his tears and diverted his attention to the other children. He removed the toys and sweets and requested Kamalabai to distribute them among the other children. There was a sudden commotion in the small dwelling as the children rushed towards Kamalabai.

Ram felt really nice that he could bring some joy in their otherwise colourless life.

As he prepared to leave, he glanced over at Ranjana who continued to shower her attention on the lifeless object in her hand. He again felt the urge to hug her but stopped short of doing it. Possibly, it was the difference in their social status or her unkempt form but he kept saying to himself that it would be inappropriate to show any physical affection. This made him feel less guilty. With a heavy heart, he thanked Kamalabai again and left the place.

The journey to Mumbai had a more pleasant feel to it this time around. The melancholy of her eyes from the previous trip was replaced by a more pleasant emotion albeit for a brief moment. He made up his mind to come to the aanganwadi every month. 

It was almost 6 months since he last visited Mokhada. While he always intended to visit the place every month, his hectic work schedule did not provide him with an opportunity.

Finally, a day after Diwali, he found the time and inclination and set off on his own to Mokhada. He had a bagful of Diwali sweets and some more toys. He had specially bought a baby doll for Ranjana. He could almost see the smile on her face when he would give the doll to her . He had also made up his mind to shed his inhibitions this time and give her a hug to comfort her and thereby let her experience an emotion that she had been deprived of.

It was in a buoyant mood that Ram reached the aanganwadi.

"Sir...Sir..How are you sir?".

He turned to see Shankar coming towards him.

"I am good Shankar", he responded with a smile "How come you are here?”

"Sir, I had some work with Ganu so I came here", he said pointing in the direction of a villager.

"Oh..", he said and realized that Shankar was also expecting an answer to the same question.

"I just thought of bringing some sweets for the children", he said "I hope it is okay".

"Ofcourse sir" Shankar said.

Another voice confirmed it "Ofcourse sir". He turned to see Kamalabai at the door.

"Namaskar", he said as he followed her inside the dwelling.

A small paper kandil (lantern) above the door was the only indication of the festive season.There were fewer children in the aanganwadi that day perhaps due to Diwali. His eyes started searching for the one child among the few children that were present. One look and then another. She was not there.

A disappointed Ram turned towards Kamalabai and enquired "Where is Ranjana?"

After a moments pause, which seemed to suggest her surprise at the enquiry, she responded "She is not here".

"Where is she?" he asked, slightly irritated at the incomplete reply.

"She doesn't come here any more Sir", Kamalabai said and went to attend to a child who had started crying.

Ram looked at Shankar with a quizzical look.

Shankar gestured him to come out with him. Ram followed him out of the dwelling.

"Sir, she doesn't live in this pada anymore", Shankar said once they were outside.

"What....What do you mean she does not live here?” he asked without realizing that his voice was getting louder.

A few other villagers who were passing by stopped to see what was happening.

Getting no response from Shankar, Ram asked again "What happened Shankar?"

His inquiry and tone seemed to suggest that he was talking about a close acquaintance rather than a poor child whom he had just seen a couple of times before. However, the correctness of his question or the lack of it was the last thing in Ram's mind now. Ranjana was the main reason he was here and the incomplete responses were not helping.

After a long pause, Shankar finally started talking.

"Sir, a few days ago her mother had a big fight with the liquor shop owner over some past dues. In a fit of rage, she picked up a bottle and hit him. His friends beat her up very badly. The panchayat decided that she had to leave the village and threw her out".

One of the passers-by added "She was a witch and....."

Ram interrupted him and exclaimed "What do you mean...Threw her out?..What about Ranjana?"

"She took her away", Shankar said.

"Took her away....where?” Ram was agitated now.

Shankar answered "No one knows. They just took their stuff and left. God knows where".

"Good that they left. The village would be better of without that witch". It was the same villager who seemed to love giving his point of view.

Ram looked at him and then at Shankar. He did not know how to react. He was at a loss for words.

"So, no one knows where they are?” he asked possibly in a final attempt.

"Who cares? Let them die". It was the same villager who was now getting on Ram's nerves.

Looking at him he asked in an angry tone, "Did you people ever think of that little girl. What will happen to her?"

The villager responded nonchalantly "Who cares? She was an illegitimate kid anyway".

Ram’s blood was boiling now. He clenched his fist in anger at the attitude of the villagers.

Sensing some trouble, Shankar took his hand and led Ram to his car. Ram sat in the car and slammed the door shut.

He rolled down the glass and made one last attempt. "Shankar, if you come to know anything about that child, please let me know".

"Sure sir", Shankar assured him.

Ram drove a couple of kilometers and stopped next to a bridge. He stepped out and in a sudden surge of emotion, started sobbing uncontrollably.

"Why...Why...God...Why are you doing this? he cried, looking the sky. How can you be so cruel? Why are you punishing the poor child? What is her fault?"

He sat on the side of the road in an attempt to calm himself. It took a few minutes before Ram got back to his car and started his long drive back to Mumbai. The baby doll remained in the back seat of his car as did the other toys and sweets. 

He could see the eyes coming towards him, growing bigger and bigger as they neared him. Suddenly, the eyes started talking

"Dada, no one has given me a toy before. I thought you will bring more toys for me. Why are you not coming? Why did you not give me a hug Dada...No one has given me a hug. Dada, why are these people hitting my mother?....Dada, why is everyone shouting at us?....I am hungry Dada but whom should I ask for food?...Dada, why are we leaving our house?...Dada, there are bad people here...I am afraid of them...Dada, tell them not to come near me....Dada...Dada...please...please....Dadaaaaa....".

He woke up with a start. For a moment he could not find his bearings.  Slowly, he came to his senses and realized that he was perspiring profusely in his air conditioned bedroom.  He switched on the lights and drank a glass of water.  He opened his window to breathe in some fresh air. The night sky was intermittently lit with the fireworks of Diwali. It was almost a year since Ram last visited Mokhada and he is still waiting for that call from Shankar. Until then,all he can do is console himself with the thought that Ranjana would have found another aanganwadi and possibly another Ram who would not hesitate to give her the hug that she may have been yearning for. He can only believe that there is still some goodness left in this world for her eyes to see and find a reason to live.

Coach Ram

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