My TFI intern experience ends this Friday, and while there are dozens and dozens of precious instances I will cherish forever, there’s one particular event that made me recognize the potential of children to knock me off my feet through their compassion. That a moment of tenderness from an eight year old could make me want to buckle at my knees and cry. This is an event I couldn’t not write about, and I hope I do due justice in this piece so you can understand the gravity of this simple gesture.
I have a kid in my class whose younger sister studies in grade 3 (7-8 years old). On my first day of school when I met this sweetheart, she was a cute, dark skinned, wide-eyed beauty with black ribbons that matched the depth of the black in her innocent eyes. Her hair is double braided and tied up and she carries a schoolbag that always looks too heavy on her. She was, in most ways, indistinguishable from the other 30 odd kids in her class at first glance.
Over the course of the thirty days I spent at this school, I grew to learn more about her. I learnt to love her reservedness and kindness, and grew intensely distraught over her ailment that is so far untreated. In just about two weeks, this beautiful sweetheart of an angel developed a limp that’s been becoming further and further pronounced. Today, it might just be the first thing you notice about her. Before the depth of her black eyes, the immaculateness of the tied ribbons or how the weight of her bag looks like it might just topple her over any moment now.
That isn’t the crux of this narrative, though. That was just the background of this little eight year old I am going to talk about here.
Kids in school seem to have a lot of birthdays. Since the day I joined, there has hardly been a day that I haven’t received a chocolate from a student. As dictated by my own version of a diet, I promptly set the candy aside to be forgotten about, and later hand it over to whichever kid I see first after school.
It so happened that on three consecutive days, I had handed over my bounty to this little kutti of mine. These chocolates ranged from Eclairs to larger Perk and expensive looking truffles, and each time I held the chocolate in my arm out for her, she’d shake her head in a quiet no- rejecting my offer until I offered it again. While this always touched me, I never paid too much heed to it. This kid had always been shy.
On the fourth day, she seemed shyer than ever. She’d come to my class right at dispersal and was looking for me with a tiny smile on her lips and her innocent eyes peering up at me with a delight I hadn’t yet understood. I reached to pull out a tiny Caramel chocolate I had in my purse. When I looked at her, she was holding something out in her hand for me. Out on her tiny little open palm was a large Dairy Milk. I didn’t understand at first.
“Is it your birthday today kutti!”
She smiled a little more, never saying a word. She shook her head to imply her characteristic quiet no.
“She bought it for you, miss” came a voice from her sister. My kid nodded in acceptance, in her quiet, mesmerizing way.
It was a twenty rupees chocolate, from a kid who doesn’t get chocolates often at home. From a kid whose classmate searched in agony for her missing slipper for over an hour after school, knowing that without it she’d not have shoes for a month. From a kid who walks home everyday with a slight limp in her leg that hasn’t been checked by a doctor yet. She held out the chocolate with her eyes wide open, melting my heart in one moment of acute agony, gut wrenching ache and immense pride all at once. I had to ask her to treat herself with tears in my eyes, watch as she advanced to join her father at the portico of school and point me out to him with a beam on her face. She left me so easily with an incident I will hauntingly remember with an ache each time I look back at this month.
I buy chocolates for her now everyday. I probably shouldn’t, but I have just a week left with this angel and I can’t not see the beam on her little face everyday.
– Swathi Chandrasekaran
June, 2018
Where? CMS Arumbakkam Corporation School
A lot of these kids struggle with basic amenities that we take for granted, and anything you contribute towards their education will definitely go a tremendous way through the immense care taken by TFI and other similarly amazing NGOs. If you’re even a tiny bit interested, do check out their website to find out how you can help!
Perplexed Potatoes 