Dear Shyamala..

A week before Christmas, our Church had organized a trip to an Orphanage home. We were all excited. Contributions poured in- rice bags, cooking oil, pulses and other groceries. Some unknown angel had left sweets(gulab jaamun) in the church just for those orphans.

And one fine evening we headed to the orphanage located in the outskirts of the city. It was catholic orphanage run by the nuns and sisters. The moment we stepped out of our vehicles, we were greeted by smiles of little girls and their 'Good Evenings' and 'Hellos'. Such a warm welcome it was!

By the time we entered the hall, those girls were lined up in order and began singing a 'Welcome' song clapping their hands with their faces lit with joy. It just gladdened my heart. Then a few members from our group taught them songs which they picked up really fast. Another narrated a story to which they were all ears. An enthusiastic audience I must say. Finally, they wanted the story-narrator to ask questions and when asked not one question remained unanswered.

After the singing and story telling, snacks were distributed and we were allowed to meet those girls. I settled myself beside a group of four girls who were in the second and third grade. I started off by saying my name and getting them to say theirs. Language seemed like a barrier (I do not know the local language Telugu) but I managed with English. A little girl named Shyamala caught my attention. She was talkative than the rest in the group. When I mentioned I had stayed in hostel till my 12th grade, nodding her head she was like oho.. and whispered to the girl beside her. I am no stranger to hostel life and know what's its like to be bound by a routine. Then our conversation moved on to how life was in the orphanage home. 'It is nice, good', they said. 'We sing songs, dance'. Little Shyamala told she had celebrated her birthday recently and she had Chicken Briyani on that day. I was happy for her. I got to know later that Briyani was served on Sundays. I went on to ask her, 'What do you do everyday?' To this she replied, 'I wake up at 5 am, do my duties, go to school, do my duties and then sleep.' Oh My! She was just a second grader and a tiny tot to my eyes and as little as she was she seemed to be performing greater tasks for a girl her age. She is going to be a responsible woman. I too had my share of duties to do but that was not till my fifth grade. We had the housekeeping staff and nannies to help us with our tasks. Shyamala continued, 'I know English, Hindi....' I stopped her right there and said, 'Well, You speak Hindi. Tumara naam kya hai?' 'Mera naam Shyamala hai'. Another question in Hindi and she was baffled. I continued in English, 'So, how are your teachers? Strict or nice? Do you get beaten?', I asked smiling. 'Yes', she replied.'We get beaten when we do wrong but after the beating when the teacher leaves we laugh'. She added she doesn't cry when beaten. She was a cute, naughty kid. Reminded of the times when we at school used to remain silent at the very sound of the teacher's footsteps and once they leave the class we are back chattering and giggling.

Shyamala pointed two others sitting next to her and told they were her best friends. One thing I cherish about boarding schools or hostels is the friendship. At that moment, friends could be the family around you. My last question to my little friend was - 'What do you want to become when you grow up?' 'Doctor', came the instant reply. Her friends also answered the same. May be they were not aware of other professions I thought. May be my guess is wrong. That was the question I didn't really like while at school. Like little Shyamala, my friends at school wanted to be a doctor or teacher. Of course they are not one today. Those were the only professions we knew at that time.

Later I got to meet the other girls in the hall. Their very smiles filled us with joy and happiness. They did not have a home nor a family but showed much love and care when we walked into their orphanage home like we were their own. Thank God for the trip in itself and looking forward to meeting them again.