As I write these words Utpal is on his way to join his new school. I kept the promise I made him when he was crying his heart out. When he was with us for one night, I showed him the beautiful message someone he has never met sent him. It said: Do you know how amazing you are? You are a very strong lad. Good luck in your new school. It sounds like a lovely place where you’ll find many good friends and caring teachers. I’m so happy for you. I took the liberty to add a quote to this photo of yours: “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” You are truly a brave and  wise soul. I want you to know that you inspire me. Every time I look at this giggly pic of yours (after all that you’ve been through, still you continue to smile brightly) it lights up my day and gives me courage to move forward in life. I want to ‘THANK YOU’ for that! Better things are coming your way little one. My love and prayers are always with you. God bless!
I second every word!

I was  wondering what could be going on in his little head when my thoughts travelled back in time to the days when I was his age and even younger. It is funny that I never remembered till now how I too had to deal with change umpteen times and how traumatic it was. If he has his scars, I had the wrong colour of skin and a funny sounding name! In my school life I went to many schools in many cities: Paris, New Delhi, Rabat, Saigon, Algiers and Geneva. not counting nursery school in Beijing when I was a toddler. I realise today how traumatic these changes were and how difficult it was for me to be accepted and make friends and each time I felt settled Papa would come home and tell us we were posted to another country. To me it meant having to start all the saga of being accepted all over again. It also meant learning a new culture and sometimes a new language as I was sent to local schools. At that time I guess it was survival mode and I needed just like Utpal to build walls around me to bear the kind of bullying I was subjected to. India was not a known country and people had strange ideas about it. My classmates use to ask me questions like: do you live in trees in India? or do you all move around on elephants? It use to make me angry and as communication was non existent I use to ask my grandfather to send me pictures of our house and of his car.

As I went to the local schools, I felt different as we always had a chauffeured car and a big one at that. I remember asking the driver to drop me well before school so I could reach school on foot as many of my friends did. I hated being an Ambassador’s daughter! I would have settled being the butcher’s one. I guess things became more difficult as one grew up. When I was 15, my papa sent me to boarding school in Geneva for my final school year. The reason being that there was no proper French school in Ankara where we were posted. It was a school run by nuns and the students of my class (Baccalaureate) were daughters of the uber rich who had failed many times. Some of them had cars and they all wore branded clothes. The school was swanky and we all had single rooms. I was barely 15 whereas my classmates were much older, some being 20! They were not good at their studies and resented me as I was a good student. In the dining hall we had tables of 6 and no one sat at my table. They did not want to sit with the black one! Our names were written on our doors and in the evening they would stand by my door and read my name aloud and laugh. I use to lie in foetal position on my bed and cover my ears with my hands. When I shared this with my teachers they just laughed. One even said you are lucky you can eat all the butter on the table. I did not want butter I wanted friends, I wanted to be accepted, I wanted to be one of them.

I had forgotten about this but Utpal’s shifting schools brought all this back and the images were as vivid as if they had happened yesterday and the wounds as raw and the pain as searing. Even after half a century!  I know how difficult it is to get accepted and how terribly hurtful it is when you are not. I just hope and pray that all goes well with little Utpal.

The last I heard from him was that the admission procedures were still not over as they had to buy all that he needed. I cannot begin to imagine how this lad will feel once those who mamaji and dharmu bhaiyya leave and he moves into unknown territory with his brand new trunk and his brand new clothes! I also wonder how quickly he will fall asleep in a strange place where everything is new. Today I send a special prayer to the God of little boys to descend from the Heavens and hold his hand through the night. I am sure he will. Maybe in the form of another little boy who sleeps in the bed next to his.

I for one know sleep will not come easy!

Yes little one: It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. I have walked that path.

As promised, I brought Popples home yesterday. Today he will go to his new school. What a big step for a this tiny lad. We packed his bag, bough a few things that were needed and then it was time to enjoy being home. It all began with a carom game that was great fun, then his favourite dinner : chicken and chapatis. I left him with the girls and went to bed. Sleep did not come easy as my mind was full of thoughts and questions. Will he settle down fast? Will he make friends? Will he be happy? And then I started wondering what was going on in his mind. I know he is apprehensive about how other children will react to his scars, to his poor English, to the questions he has no answers for : what do your parents do, what is your father, your mother’s name. I know he will find  answers let us not forget he is a survivor and does walk into people’s heart. I pray to the God of small beings to sprinkle enough magic dust to enable him to conjure all the miracles needed to be accepted in his new school and do it proud. I finally fell asleep on this thought.

While I was ruminating dark thoughts, the magic had already begun. Imagine my utter delight when I switched on my computer and logged into my Facebook page and was greeted by this wonderful picture. After Ranjan and I retreated to our room, the girls and Utpal had plans I did not know off. They all went to the Ice Cream Parlour and got themselves a treat. For Utpal it was a chocolate chip cone! I now wonder what else happened before he finally went to sleep. He is still asleep as I write these words. I will wake him up in a while and then I hope he will smiles all the way to school. It has taken a long time for Utpal to consider my house as home. I will end this post by a quote from the Atharva Veda: Him that has control of departure, that has control of coming home, return, and turning in, that shepherd do I also call.

This picture always breaks my heart. It was taken a few years ago when Utpal when I had to leave him someplace he did not want to be in but we had no choice and the little chap could only express his feelings with tears: tears of hurt, tears of anger, tears of frustration, tears that just meant: you did not hear me. The fact is that we did but had no alternative at that given moment. I know that the resilient and brave kid must have stopped crying and moved to survival mode, but the unshed tears I shed stayed with me: tears of helplessness and of guilt. Even when I see the picture today, I feel as bad as I did now. Many a times I thought of deleting this picture but did not as it was part of the journey Popples and I began way back in 2003. This must have been taken in 2007. He was just five and already in boarding school.

Since that day we have had occasional tears but not many. Even when he was upset in school he kept quiet and what was missing was his smile. His cries for help matured with age: bad marks in school, confidential chats with his counsellor or at best a quickly muttered: I do not like the school, within my earshot. He was again on survival mode. Slowly we adults head his silent entreaties and took the step I guess we has hoping for: a new school where he would be heard!

On Monday he visited his new school and fell in love with it at first sight. I think what he saw was people willing to listen to him, people who wanted to acknowledge his plus points and highlight them. He put his best foot forward and behaved like a Prince. He even struggled to find English words to answer his new Principal. She saw his effort and gently switched to Hindi. When I presented his last report card that was not good, she simply closed the it and said: marks did not matter! On the other hand she urged us to send him as soon as possible so that he could participate in the skating zonal competition scheduled for the end of the month. Utpal was over the moon.

Yesterday Utpal had to go back to his old school. When the car came to fetch him, he came to say goodbye, but then burst into tears exactly the same way he had in the picture. He pleaded and wept his heart out. I told him that I did not want him to leave his old school like a coward and wanted him to leave his head held high. I promised him that we would get him home today and in his new school tomorrow. He finally settled down in my arms and picked up his bag and left. His last glance was one of total trust that said: please don’t let me down.

Utpal’s tears yesterday revealed how much he suffered in silence in the last year where he was bullied and even humiliated time and again, the worst being when his class teacher chose to state in a loud and shrilly voice that he was a liar! For me that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I knew his time in that school was up.

We will bring him home today!

Dear Ma,

Today is your birthday. You would have been 96. But you left me 23 years ago to live each day of my life with memories of you. But that is not all. You were such an extraordinary person in so many ways that I feel compelled to at least live up to your expectations and make sure that I remain worthy of all your sacrifices be it your decision to not to give birth to a slave child even if that meant remaining unmarried, or the acceptance of having just one child, you who wanted to have a whole football team! Had I got siblings then maybe we together could have fulfilled all your dreams, but God had other plans and wanted me to be the one to do so. That was/is a tall order. I am still busy fulfilling your dreams.

I chose this picture to illustrate this post as this is where it all began. You were so very ill at my birth and we almost lost you. This must be one of the first pictures when we ‘met’ and in spite of the terrible surgery you had and in spite of the excruciating pain, you gifted me your incredible smile for the first time. It is this smile I held on to all my life and still do. I wonder what your thoughts were as you held this little bundle with its funny hairdo? I know that I was in heaven as I was close to the first home I knew: your womb. As I grew up I came to know your unique life path from a hungry freedom fighter’s brave daughter to an ambassador’s wife! And above all a mother to a difficult and rebellious child who grew up to be a difficult rebellious woman. I guess you are at fault here as you too lived life in quiet rebellion by fighting for every right you could have been denied: the right to education as you grabbed every single degree available to you; the right to independence as you lived alone in Delhi and worked for the right of other women when people your age were married with umpteen kids.

I slowly imbibed your every word, and drunk your every smile. I cannot ever remember you being angry. Everything you told me was safely tucked into some recess of my mind, but ma I had to live my life before I could comprehend the lessons you so gently shared over a life time. And when pa left a few months later to join you, it would take a deep depression that lingered on for years and a chance encounter with a pure soul that was considered the dregs of humanity, to jolt me out of my almost catatonic state. Will you ever forgive me for the years I wasted, you who cherished life so much that you refused any form of palliative care and bore your pain with courage and dignity, a dignity you fought hard to maintain till the very end?

For the past 15 years now, Ma I have tried to fulfil a mission dear to your heart but that you could not complete as life took over. Ina very small way I am trying to give education to underprivileged children and skills to women so that they can gain some economic freedom. Were you not the one who always told me that it was important for women to keep their financial independence. You never believed in joint accounts!

When I look back at these 15 years I feel a sense of satisfaction and contentment though there is still so much to do. I am glad that you are not here to see how we have destroyed the country you and the likes of you fought for. Today there are more hungry and dying children than when you were young and over half of the population struggles to make ends meet. On the other side of the spectrum you have riches you cannot begin to imagine. We have malls that beat Faubourg St Honore! But what is missing is compassion and empathy. It is as if there were 2 Indias that moved in parallel concentric circles. Money is today’s measure of success and in this I have failed miserably. As for compassion I have it in abundance and feel so helpless at times.

The values that pa and you taught me are difficult to follow, in today’s world they are almost a handicap, something people laugh at! I only hope that I can live by these values till my last breath. I have tried to inculcate them in my daughters though sometimes I feel almost guilty, as it will make their lives that much harder, but then they too have your blood running in their veins.

There are times when I feel like the little girl in the picture, the only difference is that the there is no one to hug her and give her that incredible smile.

I miss you mama

anou

I am over the moon today! The reason? A smile that had got lost somewhere along the way is back. Utpal’s smile! The one that  could light my darkest hour in a jiffy. Sadly it had got lost for too long. The bullies and their allies had taken care of that! Yesterday we went to see a knew school for Utpal as he was having a tough time in his present one. I was apprehensive as the new school is far bigger and joining midterm is never easy. But all my fears were allayed when Utpal began smiling and never stopped. He proved us wrong in every way imaginable. We had feared that he would be fearful, withdrawn, edgy, clingy. Far from that. He was to the manor born. His body language, his smile, his gait, everything was transformed.

Me met the counsellor and had a long chat with her and was composed and serious in the Principal’s room. He was introduced to two students and believe it or not he initiated the conversation. My heart went out to him when he struggled to find the correct English words but did not break into Hindi. never mind the grammatical mistakes. I was so proud of him. I knew that once again Utpal the survivor had come out of his shell. He knew that his life would change if the school accepted him and he put his best foot forward and walked into many hearts.

The Principal was lovely as she told him he could join now and even said she would make sure that he participated in the skating zonal competition! When I gently pushed his latest report in front of her, she closed it and said marks did not matter, what mattered was that he be happy! Marks would happen in due course. I know he will shine and make us all proud.

Today he needs our love and blessings.

Come to think of it there were two of us smiling all the way!

Utpal maybe soon moving to a new school. If all goes well it could be in less than a month. The need for the move has been on the anvil for quite some time. It had to happen for more reasons than one. For the past 3 years or so, Utpal has been deeply disturbed and in therapy. This was to be expected as the violence, abuse and pain you suffer during your very early childhood manifests itself in your pre-teens. Utpal had a very violent and unstable early childhood as the child of alcoholic parents and with the mother being severely bipolar. When he was one he also had to bear the excruciating pain of third degree burns in a country where pain management is close to non existent unlike other countries were severely burnt children are kept anaesthetised in the early stage of their treatment. Then he also had to deal with his mother not giving sign of life for 4 years. As he grew up, he also had to deal with the scars on his body which make him ‘different’ and bear the bullying that ensued. All this put together was too much to bear and unfortunately the school was not able to comprehend the extent of his pain.

The school was ideal for the 4 year old who needed to find security and love. That was given in abundance in the early years by some very understanding and loving staff members but as he grew into a pre adolescent and deal with boys, self image and other issues, the one enabling environment became stifling. Moreover the need for him to be able to integrate an English speaking environment was not fulfilled as sadly in spite of 6 years in an English medium school, his spoken English is poor. I guess this is a sad reality in our education system. I was told that in a school somewhere in rural India, children were fined if they spoke Hindi and the only language they were permitted to speak in was English. A good model to follow.

Anyway nothing is eternal and the wheel of change has to move.

I am reminded of the song made famous by the Byrds :
To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven.

So maybe the time for Utpal to move on has come! He has got what he needed from this school but now he needs more: widen his horizons, hone his skills, enlarge his friends circle by meeting children from other parts of the country. But that is not all. This school having day boarders and thus buses will enable him to come home often and have regular counselling.

Utpal has always been older than his years. I realised this when he was just a toddler. Somehow this aspect of his personality got obliterated by the slew of problems he had to face, when behaving like a child was what was the right cried for help: his grades fell, his behaviour was challenging to say the least. Had he come and said what was bothering him in a serious and adult manner either one would not have believed him or one would not have taken the required steps.

Yesterday he met with his counsellor has I wanted her to have a talk with him and prepare him for the change that awaits him. He said that he did want to change schools but had apprehensions: that his English would be poor compared to that of his new school mates; that they too may make fun of his scars and above all how would he make friends? His counsellor gave him coping strategies and told him she would visit the school and talk to all concerned and explain everything. He was relieved. But I know my little man will not show his fears. We will have to stand behind him all the way and be there when needed. The counsellor also asked to speak Hindi to him when he his home on week ends and that is his comfort zone.

Let us not forget, the school he is in has been the longest ‘home’ for this child of God. He entered its portals when he was 4 and is leaving when he his almost 12. Good, bad, indifferent it was the only place he knew. So leaving will not be easy for him. The counsellor talked of change akin to seasons that change. I think he understood. Now only time will tell.

In a few minutes we are setting off to have a smart hair cut and buy new clothes for tomorrow’s interview. I hope he likes the new school. One thing is certain: if he does not like it then we put our searching boots again!