I was suitcase shopping recently. Not for myself. I do not travel much. This suitcase was for Utpal. And as I stood looking at it, my mind went back to another suitcase—a little red one I bought for him nearly two decades ago. Utpal was four years old then, and he was leaving for boarding school. We filled that little red suitcase with everything on the list given to us by the school. But we also packed something else: a whole collection of dreams waiting to be discovered and fulfilled. Over the years, as Utpal moved from one stage of his life to the next, we packed many more suitcases. And we never forgot to tuck in the dreams that were still waiting for their turn. Today, another suitcase is ready. And this time, Utpal is not leaving for school. He is leaving to begin his adult life and pursue his dream of working in films. The little boy who once needed us to help him find his way is now ready to find his own. But before we talk about the young man leaving for Mumbai, we need to go back to the little boy who almost did not survive. His home life was far from safe. His mother struggled with alcoholism and mental illness, and the family environment was deeply dysfunctional. During the day, Utpal was safe with us. At night, however, life could become unpredictable. There were nights when there was nothing to eat at home. There were times when his mother ended up at the police station. And there were moments when a little boy had to deal with situations no child should ever have to face. Utpal, however, seemed to understand far more than a child of his age should have. If someone wanted to visit his home, he would run ahead on his chubby little legs and hide the bottles of alcohol his mother had been drinking. “Mama was naughty,” he would say. The words were innocent. The reality was anything but. We tried to help his mother. We eventually arranged for her to go to a rehabilitation centre, while Utpal went to boarding school. He was just four years old. The separation was difficult for both of them. But when Utpal accompanied one of our resource persons to the rehabilitation centre to say goodbye to his mother, he smiled. He knew he was safe. And, more importantly, he knew that his mother was safe too. That little boy had already begun to show us something that would remain one of his defining qualities throughout his life: an extraordinary ability to endure, to accept what life placed before him, and somehow to keep moving forward. The years that followed were not always easy. Utpal slowly learned to adapt to his new life at boarding school. During the holidays, he would return to us, but the situation at home continued to deteriorate. Eventually, we became afraid that his family might take him out of school and disappear with him. We could not allow that to happen. So we stepped in once again. I became Utpal’s legal guardian. By then, he had already been through more than most adults could bear. The burns had left scars on his body. The chaos at home had left other scars, less visible but no less real. And yet, somehow, Utpal kept moving forward. As the years passed, he taught us many things. Perhaps the most important was the meaning of dignified acceptance in the face of adversity. He had endured excruciating physical pain. He had lived with the humiliation of being let down by the people he loved most. And yet he never allowed any of it to define him. Looking back, Utpal could so easily have become one of the many children begging at a traffic light. Instead, a network of people chose to hold on to a different dream for him. The dream was simple: that this little boy should be given the chance to live a different life. And slowly, with a little help, he began to build one. And then, slowly, the little boy began to grow into himself. By the time Utpal was fifteen, he had made peace with the scars that had once made him the target of bullying and teasing. He was now a lean, stylish young man, a terrific skater who taught skating to younger children at his school. He played tennis and football. He loved music and dancing. And he had a particular fascination with engineering—or what he called engineering. Whenever he came home for the holidays, he would take apart all manner of objects and then try to put them back together again. Sometimes they worked. Sometimes they did not. But Utpal was always willing to try. The wise little boy of earlier years had become a delightful teenager, complete with all the imperfections and mischief that come with being fifteen. He was also deeply generous. During his holidays, he would return to the Khader centre, his first home, and teach the children to dance and draw. He had a way of reaching straight into their hearts. To them, he was Utpal Bhaiya. And Utpal Bhaiya was very special. After school, Utpal went on to study Mass Communication and Journalism. But his real education was happening elsewhere too. He had always been drawn to art, music, dance and storytelling. Now he began to find his way into the world of film and digital media. Between 2021 and 2023, he worked on small projects, gradually gaining experience and opening doors to collaborations with brands and music projects. He filmed and edited using nothing more than his phone. Those early projects brought him his first income and, more importantly, gave him the confidence to begin creating content of his own. He went on to work as a sub-editor at Ritam Digital and later as an assistant director on the film Janani, Ek AI Ki Kahaniin Mumbai. For a while, he returned to Delhi and worked with a digital marketing start-up. But that was not really the dream. The dream was still waiting. And then, suddenly, the opportunity came. The last few days before his departure were busy. There was shopping to do, things to pack and special meals to cook. The suitcase slowly filled up. No one said very much. We were all quietly counting the days until it was ready and our Utpal was ready to leave with it. I had been through this before. When Utpal first left for boarding school, he was only four years old. I remember weeping like a baby. My heart was screaming at me: Was I doing the right thing? Was I really sending such a tiny child away? My mind tried to reassure me. It was for his good. My mind tried to reassure me. It was for his good. Education would help make his dreams possible. Now, all these years later, I found myself facing another departure. The little boy who had once left for boarding school was now a young man leaving to pursue his dream. And once again, I had to let him go. The half-packed suitcase sat in the room, silently staring at me. I could feel my throat constrict and my eyes fill with tears. I was not the only one. No one said much. There were so many things I wanted to say, but could not. Instead, I found myself patting his cheek, giving him a furtive hug and walking away. I knew I had to let him go. That was the only way he could find his wings and fly. And so I would let him go. There was no other option But suitcases packed with dreams have a destiny to fulfil. I knew that when the time came, I would send him off with a smile and the right words. I also knew that when the car disappeared and I stopped waving goodbye, I would probably break down and cry. And I did. But that is what we do for the children we love. We hold them close. We nurture them. And then, when the time comes, we let them go. I will pray every day to the God of small things to take care of my darling child and walk with him always. “All God’s angels come to us disguised,” wrote James Russell Lowell. Utpal—Popples to me, and Outpal to his friends—is a force to be reckoned with. He has survived third-degree burns, double pneumonia and acute hepatitis A. He has survived pain, loss and circumstances that could easily have broken him. And now, finally, the little boy who once needed others to carry him towards his future is ready to walk there himself. His suitcase is packed. His dreams are waiting. And it is time to let him fly I was suitcase shopping recently. Not for myself. I do not travel much. This suitcase was for Utpal. And as I stood looking at it, my mind went back to another suitcase—a little red one I bought for him nearly two decades ago. Utpal was four years old then, and he was leaving for boarding school. We filled that little red suitcase with everything on the list given to us by the school. But we also packed something else: a whole collection of dreams waiting to be discovered and fulfilled. Over the years, as Utpal moved from one stage of his life to the next, we packed many more suitcases. And we never forgot to tuck in the dreams that were still waiting for their turn. Today, another suitcase is ready. And this time, Utpal is not leaving for school. He is leaving to begin his adult life and pursue his dream of working in films. The little boy who once needed us to help him find his way is now ready to find his own. But before we talk about the young man leaving for Mumbai, we need to go back to the little boy who almost did not survive. His home life was far from safe. His mother struggled with alcoholism and mental illness, and the family environment was deeply dysfunctional. During the day, Utpal was safe with us. At night, however, life could become unpredictable. There were nights when there was nothing to eat at home. There were times when his mother ended up at the police station. And there were moments when a little boy had to deal with situations no child should ever have to face. Utpal, however, seemed to understand far more than a child of his age should have. If someone wanted to visit his home, he would run ahead on his chubby little legs and hide the bottles of alcohol his mother had been drinking. “Mama was naughty,” he would say. The words were innocent. The reality was anything but. We tried to help his mother. We eventually arranged for her to go to a rehabilitation centre, while Utpal went to boarding school. He was just four years old. The separation was difficult for both of them. But when Utpal accompanied one of our resource persons to the rehabilitation centre to say goodbye to his mother, he smiled. He knew he was safe. And, more importantly, he knew that his mother was safe too. That little boy had already begun to show us something that would remain one of his defining qualities throughout his life: an extraordinary ability to endure, to accept what life placed before him, and somehow to keep moving forward. The years that followed were not always easy. Utpal slowly learned to adapt to his new life at boarding school. During the holidays, he would return to us, but the situation at home continued to deteriorate. Eventually, we became afraid that his family might take him out of school and disappear with him. We could not allow that to happen. So we stepped in once again. I became Utpal’s legal guardian. By then, he had already been through more than most adults could bear. The burns had left scars on his body. The chaos at home had left other scars, less visible but no less real. And yet, somehow, Utpal kept moving forward. As the years passed, he taught us many things. Perhaps the most important was the meaning of dignified acceptance in the face of adversity. He had endured excruciating physical pain. He had lived with the humiliation of being let down by the people he loved most. And yet he never allowed any of it to define him. Looking back, Utpal could so easily have become one of the many children begging at a traffic light. Instead, a network of people chose to hold on to a different dream for him. The dream was simple: that this little boy should be given the chance to live a different life. And slowly, with a little help, he began to build one. And then, slowly, the little boy began to grow into himself. By the time Utpal was fifteen, he had made peace with the scars that had once made him the target of bullying and teasing. He was now a lean, stylish young man, a terrific skater who taught skating to younger children at his school. He played tennis and football. He loved music and dancing. And he had a particular fascination with engineering—or what he called engineering. Whenever he came home for the holidays, he would take apart all manner of objects and then try to put them back together again. Sometimes they worked. Sometimes they did not. But Utpal was always willing to try. The wise little boy of earlier years had become a delightful teenager, complete with all the imperfections and mischief that come with being fifteen. He was also deeply generous. During his holidays, he would return to the Khader centre, his first home, and teach the children to dance and draw. He had a way of reaching straight into their hearts. To them, he was Utpal Bhaiya. And Utpal Bhaiya was very special. After school, Utpal went on to study Mass Communication and Journalism. But his real education was happening elsewhere too. He had always been drawn to art, music, dance and storytelling. Now he began to find his way into the world of film and digital media. Between 2021 and 2023, he worked on small projects, gradually gaining experience and opening doors to collaborations with brands and music projects. He filmed and edited using nothing more than his phone. Those early projects brought him his first income and, more importantly, gave him the confidence to begin creating content of his own. He went on to work as a sub-editor at Ritam Digital and later as an assistant director on the film Janani, Ek AI Ki Kahaniin Mumbai. For a while, he returned to Delhi and worked with a digital marketing start-up. But that was not really the dream. The dream was still waiting. And then, suddenly, the opportunity came. The last few days before his departure were busy. There was shopping to do, things to pack and special meals to cook. The suitcase slowly filled up. No one said very much. We were all quietly counting the days until it was ready and our Utpal was ready to leave with it. I had been through this before. When Utpal first left for boarding school, he was only four years old. I remember weeping like a baby. My heart was screaming at me: Was I doing the right thing? Was I really sending such a tiny child away? My mind tried to reassure me. It was for his good. My mind tried to reassure me. It was for his good. Education would help make his dreams possible. Now, all these years later, I found myself facing another departure. The little boy who had once left for boarding school was now a young man leaving to pursue his dream. And once again, I had to let him go. The half-packed suitcase sat in the room, silently staring at me. I could feel my throat constrict and my eyes fill with tears. I was not the only one. No one said much. There were so many things I wanted to say, but could not. Instead, I found myself patting his cheek, giving him a furtive hug and walking away. I knew I had to let him go. That was the only way he could find his wings and fly. And so I would let him go. There was no other option But suitcases packed with dreams have a destiny to fulfil. I knew that when the time came, I would send him off with a smile and the right words. I also knew that when the car disappeared and I stopped waving goodbye, I would probably break down and cry. And I did. But that is what we do for the children we love. We hold them close. We nurture them. And then, when the time comes, we let them go. I will pray every day to the God of small things to take care of my darling child and walk with him always. “All God’s angels come to us disguised,” wrote James Russell Lowell. Utpal—Popples to me, and Outpal to his friends—is a force to be reckoned with. He has survived third-degree burns, double pneumonia and acute hepatitis A. He has survived pain, loss and circumstances that could easily have broken him. And now, finally, the little boy who once needed others to carry him towards his future is ready to walk there himself. His suitcase is packed. His dreams are waiting. And it is time to let him fly
