The last few posts have been grim and even seething so it was time for a breath of fresh air. I found myself humming a song of yore years that sprung from the recesses of my mind. Its just another day in paradise, said the refrain. And if my memory does not fail me the paradise in question was dotted with pizzas, kids screaming and phones rigging.
I let myself be carried by the mood of the song and slowly the day gone by at pwhy seemed just that kind of paradise which just like the song writer I wouldn’t trade for anything.
The morning began just like many others with the customary Namaste ma’am or good morning ma’am that have become so much part of my life that I had lost the ability of savouring. If one was shouted by a simple minded girl, the other was barely whispered by a child with severe behaviour problems; if one was accompanied by a tug at my shirt the other was said with eyes firmly fixed on the ground; and if one was shouted by a deaf girl another was murmured by a spastic child. This beautiful and unique chorus was performed on cue as I climbed up the stairs to my office on the rooftop.
As one settled in the office, on cue again came the hot cup of tea made by Amma and that brought to my mind the struggle it had been to do away with caste and creed problems over the years. Then slowly the motley pwhy crew made the climb to the top to mark their attendance, some heaved and sighed and got my normal: you should exercise a little. One after the other irrespective they came by silent witnesses of the long road travelled to weave together this incredible pattern that reflected India’s true essence. We had nomads and tribals, the lowest and the highest caste, all creeds and ages held together by the pwhy dream.
As each set out to their posts, someone remembered that the water heating rod had to be set for Manu’s bath before the daily power cut: yes the very Manu who only a few years back roamed the streets unkempt and dirty in search of food. And today was special as all the kids of Manu’s class were off to Delhi hath to celebrate the birthday of a 4 year old who since she was 1 celebrated them with these very blessed kids.
They day had begun in earnest. Someone remembered that a TV crew was dropping by to interview little Deepak’s family, yes the very Deepak whose heart was now fixed, reminding me of the laudable fact that 11 such kids had dropped by our planet.
From the ground floor came the sounds of the creche babies singing their morning wake up songs, and the hustle and bustle around me bore witness to the simple fact that a perfect paradisaical day had begun.
It was only 10 am.
The next hour saw the special kids set off in the two hired vehicles, the TV crew appear and be whisked away to Deepak’s home. Time to catch another cup of tea and plan the rest of the day. A visit to all the centres, nine in number now, a search for a room for Manoj’s mom not to forget the table that had to be yanked up all the way to the top floor as it could not go through the staircase…
Yes it truly was just another day in paradise, one that I would not trade for anything…
