Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Intrepidity of a Child!

It was a Saturday. The loud clatter of a hundred young girls next to the visiting room apparently made it clear that it was the "Visiting Day". "Seven Seas" boarding school girls were allowed to meet their visitors every Saturday evening for two hours. This was the time when almost every child stared anxiously at the driveway, waiting to see their visitors arriving.

As the yellow board taxi stopped on the driveway, a tall man walked out hurriedly. Instantly boomed the voice of the seven year old, who rushed inside to inform her little friend. "Nehaaaa, your papa's come to meet you, he's standing near the visiting room, I saw him, promise..."
"Wow, so lucky", screamed another excited voice.
"Neha g-o-o-o", chorused a few more in the same tone.

I silently sat at the entrance desk and observed the shaky one jumping out of the old window to cross-check. It was evident that her heart was pounding. She saw her father and screamed with joy, before rushing towards me.

"Miss, can I pl-ease me-et my father", she stammered as her flushed face radiated eternal bliss. I wanted to bend down and kiss those blushed cheeks, but being a teacher, I held myself back. Teachers were not allowed to pay personal attention or pamper any little one. Her sparking eyes glittered brightly as I answered politely, "Yes, you may dear. But don't forget to ask your father to sign the register before leaving".
She looked down impatiently while I spoke, then ran hurriedly, while her mini skirt swung sideways, showing her skinny legs.

A weary looking man stood at the entrance of the visiting room, looking fondly at the little girls' playing hip hop and ring-a-ring-a-roses. As he saw Neha, he slowly spread his arms and smiled. "Slowly darling, you might fall".
"Papaaaa!!!" she shouted, in pure exaltation. "When did you come? Did you eat something? How is Neil? Has he grown taller? You know all my friends' are jealous today" she continuously chattered as her father led her in.

I looked down and checked the register. Six months, three weeks. That was the last time he had visited his daughter. We teachers were aware of their tragedy. Neha's mother had passed away in an accident,leaving behind two young children and a lonely husband. But every time I looked at the man, I was surprised. His optimism and inner strength showed on his face...and Neha inherited it. While they toiled in their hardships, it was never evident on their faces.

The night she was back from the funeral, her eyes were swollen and face fallen. But she avoided people who showed sympathy. While the other children played and talked in their recreation classes, she sat and wrote letters to her brother. Neil was only 4 years old and could not read them well, yet she asked him to study and be good. She was a responsible sister in her own little ways.

The clock struck six. I was busy writing the names of guardians in the attendance register, when the warning bell rang aloud. It was time for the visitors to leave. I hated this part of the day.

One-by-one the guardians brought their children to my desk and signed while the little darlings cried, screamed and frantically fought to go back home. As every parent left with silent signs, I gave my best reassuring smile every Saturday evening.

This weekend the last visitor was Neha's guardian. When they walked up to my desk, I felt her pain. She held her father's hand tightly while tears rolled down vigorously, wetting her white shirt. As he bent down to sign the Attendance sheet, her hand clung on to his pants. I was overwhelmed with emotions. She did not fight, scream or abuse anyone, but her tears said it all.

"I am proud of my daughter, Mrs. Smith. She is a very good girl and does not cry" Mr. Dutt spurted out. I nodded and put up my best smile.

"Neha dear, your father would be coming soon again right."She smiled and nodded. I was amazed at the strength of this girl fighting her agony. She hugged her father and left in silence.

"Thank you Mrs. Smith. Please do take care of her", her father trailed off as I noticed his eyes moisten. But he left with a positive note.

That night while I turned off the lights of the dormitory, I noticed a colorful paper carefully placed beside Neha's pillow. An urge compelled me to open it.

It was an apple drawn untidily with letters at the end "didi I good...neil". He had learnt to write too.

I left the room in utter silence.