Sunday, December 16, 2001		Life Ties

Handicap of the body is better than handicap of the mind
Taru Bahl

I met Naina, an 18-year-old winner of the Enterprise Award, set up by the local Inner Wheel Club, last month. I had to snake my way through a maze of people who had surrounded her and was rewarded for the patient wait by a broad smile and a shy "yes" to my "will you come out for lunch with me ?" At the end of the three hours that I spent with this beautiful gritty girl I realised just how much we, supposedly "normal," people take our bodies for granted. Also, how little acts of kindness, compassion and help can change lives which were meant to be doomed.

Barely out of the protective cozy confines of the womb and she found herself on the cold uneven concrete doorstep of the orphanage in Thane, Mumbai. Abandoned, because she was unwanted and unloved. The sixth daughter of a class IV employee in a Blue chip company, she was discarded because she was "hideously handicapped". To look after a creature born without legs, just unshapely knee stubs was something the father decided to do away with the moment he set eyes on her. He neither had the resources nor the desire to see her graduate from infancy to adolescence and womanhood. She was not even taken home. Straight from the government polyclinic to the orphanage, she made that one solitary journey with her biological parents, who announced that she was "born dead" and never turned back even once to find out how she was doing.

She was taken in by Kalpana, a matron in the orphanage who took an instant liking to the wide-eyed girl and gave her the name, Naina. It was not easy taking on the responsibility of a physically handicapped child, since the institute did not have a specialised wing catering to their needs. They did have a few children who had speech problems, hearing disorders or partial blindness, but Naina’s case required the approval of the Board of Trustees who were unlikely to consent. Kalpana, for some inexplicable reason, did not want to give her up. Gradually, all hurdles were overcome and Naina became a regular inmate. Her presence initially evoked surprise. Everyone came to see the unique baby. Interestingly, pity, worry and anxiety always got replaced with a confidence and an overpowering sense of affection when the visitors made eye contact with her. Her dancing eyes, sparkling ever so brilliantly, held them magnetically. They had a lively mischievous glint and a blinding energy which made the visitor oblivious of the handicap.

Naina received love and affection from the orphanage inmates who treated her as a special child. Whenever any of them was down and out or recouping after an illness, the person came to spend time with her knowing that the spirits would be lifted. She loved company and regaled them with laughter, parroting whatever they taught her. She was extremely sharp and expressive. The children particularly looked forward to days when there were "bookings". Many "aunties" came to personally donate clothes, sweets, fruits and toys to them. They would be informed a day before, so that they could wear their best clothes and line up. Naina, being the favourite, would be placed right in front. Rather than be embarrassed or ashamed about her, Kalpana and the entire brood at the orphanage wanted to show her off with pride and dignity. The protective umbrella and sense of camaraderie that the inmates developed with the cherubic girl holding centre stage led to a very normal mental growth of one who, ironically, in a "normal" family may have got completely smothered. The sensitivity that these "lesser’ children showed was something which Naina always cherished. She knew she was blessed to have been brought up in that nondescript, ramshackle, old forgotten mansion which for most people denoted a cold, unfeeling, pitiable place for children who have nobody to turn to.

One day a lady came to give boxes of crayons, paints and drawing books on the occasion of her grandson’s birthday. Being an artist herself she wanted to bring colour into their lives. Seeing the tremendous response she decided to spend an hour, every week on an with them. The biggest beneficiary of this charitable gesture was Naina. Once she discovered the utility of the brightly- coloured wax crayons there was no stopping her. Page after page was filled with images of the sun, flowers, birds, butterflies and dancing children drenched in the rains. She was talented. She used not just her pudgy hands to draw but also her mouth as she trained it to deftly outline the strokes with a brush. Her knee-stubs were excellent for filling colours as she dipped them into water paint, using pressure to shade the canvas. Seeing her was a miracle. With just some gentle prodding and inputs, she conceptualised ideas and took them to fruition. The artist-teacher realised she needed better training.

The orphanage was cash-strapped. Kalpana did not want the girl’s talent to go unutilised. She dipped into her own savings to give her an opportunity to enrol for special coaching classes, unhesitatingly spending on expensive equipment. By the time she was eight, her drawings were picked up by UNICEF and CRY. Little Naina was earning a handsome packet. Kalpana had never helped with the intention of her efforts being rewarded, financially or otherwise. Her life was dedicated to these children. She knew their fates were sealed. Not all of them could hope to settle themselves in the real world, leading a comfortable life. But when she saw Naina’s awesome talent, her maternal instincts took over. She just wanted to help, any which way.

The money which came from Naina’s artistic endeavours went in upgrading the orphanage. Some of it was set aside for her future. A self-administered wheel chair was bought for her though she insisted on managing the way she had been doing since infancy – walking on all fours. Naina was by now winning art competitions, attending art workshops and being wooed by the media who proclaimed her a child prodigy. All this limelight helped the orphanage get more grants. Since Kalpana never had her own agenda, the institution and its inmates flourished. Requests started pouring in for Naina’s adoption which she kept turning down. That was her only condition, that she continue to live with Kalpana at the orphanage till she retired and hung up her boots. Over the years the two had come to share a mother-daughter relationship.

When it was time for Kalpana to retire at the age of 60, Naina had just turned 17. Although she could have continued living in the orphanage, she decided to move out on her own so that she could provide a roof for her "mother," who was now her responsibility. She knew they would manage on her growing income. She loved freelancing with corporate houses, advertising agencies, educational institutions and publishing houses. They were like any normal mother-daughter duo. The tables were turned. People often questioned Naina as to why she had stunted her growth prospects, refusing overseas assignments and sponsorships because she wanted to be there to nurse an ailing woman, who was not even her mother. Naina silenced them with a warm smile and a twinkling magic in her eyes as she said: "Because I may be handicapped in body, but am not so in the mind."