Rakhi bond made sweeter by Chini

YEARS have gone by but I have not forgotten Chini, that little girl whom I met at an orphanage. I went there as a member of UNESCO’s teaching team to teach orphans and economically disadvantaged children. I was at Shahdol in Madhya Pradesh. The place I stayed at was near a church. Every evening, when I would return to my place after visiting nearby villages, I would see a small girl from the orphanage that was on the campus of the church. She may not have been more than six or seven years old.

One day, when I was having tea, she came with a packet of biscuits. I asked her name. Chini was an orphan, who never saw her parents. She was brought up at the orphanage run by a Christian association. She would come to meet me every day and we became close. On Raksha Bandhan, she tied a rakhi to me and gave me a chocolate. Little Chini became more than a sister to me.

After six months, my assignment came to an end. I had to return to Poona. But she used to send me postcards and I would unfailingly receive her rakhi and a chocolate on Raksha Bandhan.

She would often insist that I should come and spend a few days with her at Shahdol, but my work didn’t permit me. Slowly, her postcards became few and far between and when I phoned her, I heard her faint voice.

I had other assignments to finish, so I couldn’t call her again. But I waited for her lovely postcards and would occasionally write back.

Then a time came, I just didn’t get any postcard or letter from her. On Rakhi day, I received a courier from Father Chakranarayan, the Rector of the orphanage. I suddenly had a premonition. Chini was no more. She was suffering from an incurable type of leukaemia and had wanted to meet me.

I cursed myself for not meeting her again or calling her. It was a strange bond between us. There are certain questions in life we have no answers to.

Chini came like a whiff of fresh air and went abruptly. When I sit and ruminate over episodes in my life, I feel all loving relations are painfully brief and shockingly precarious. Otherwise, how can one account for that little girl’s predicament?

Chini never saw her parents. But I could feel her irrepressible desire to live life to the lees. Alas, that was not to be. Rakhi is a sacred thread, not just about the attachment between a brother and sister but also about protecting the weak. It is a social bond. In Chini’s case, it could not be lived up to the fullest, cut short as her life was by the icy hands of death. I was filled with remorse.

Chini, wherever you are, rest assured, I remember you all the time. Your rakhis are still with me!