Day: September 11, 2012

A post from my private blog published four years ago around this time (on Monday, September 8, 2008), published here today to reflect and rejoice in the gift of life and love.  The picture is one that Johnny sent to me just the other day– of himself and his lovely daughter, Jyotsana.

 

Monday, September 08, 2008

 

Johnny Be Good!

I found out many years ago that heartache has many faces– some as cute as a four-year old boy from a small village in the deep heart of the high mountains of Himachal Pradesh, one of the northernmost states in India.

Johnny came to us one summer, holding on to his maternal grandfather’s pinky finger, wide-eyed and cute as a button.  We lived in a small town, Saharanpur, in the hot and dusty plains of Uttar Pradesh, at the foothills of the Himalayas.  They both looked hot and flustered, the summer temperatures doing a number on them, sweat dripping from their faces, already red and flushed with the heat.  The reason they came to “us” is because my parents had just opened a Home for children like him– children from very poor economic and social backgrounds, who didn’t have much of a chance for a good life, and whose lot in life was usually further compounded by the fact that there was only a single parent in the picture if lucky, and if not, well, then, like Johnny, they were raised by poor grandparents.  

My parents would accept children from anywhere in the country and from any religious background.  It seems that Johnny’s name was John Singh and his mother was all of twenty-two years old.  Six months ago, Johnny’s father had left his mother and him to fend for themselves, and had moved away two villages across the mountain.  Johnny’s mother came back to her father’s house and had become a “burden” to her family.  In an attempt to have his daughter re-married, Johnny’s grandfather (who had recently adopted the Christian faith and was therefore facing discrimination and persecution from his Hindu neighbors) wanted to leave Johnny with us so that his daughter might find another husband. (Turns out she did just that, and had a few more children from her second marriage.  She never did want Johnny back, though– perhaps she couldn’t– and so Johnny just stayed with us.)

Well, that was then.  And this is now.  Here’s Johnny from earlier this summer:  enjoying a quick bite with me at the McDonald’s on Commercial Street in Bengaluru.  Turns out that over the years, Johnny received a lot of love and attention from my parents (and me!), and was raised in a safe and secure environment with a number of other children just like him.  He finished high school, and since he wasn’t inclined to pursue a higher education, he took on odd jobs around town– working at the local bakery and such in Saharanpur.  Some years later, when my parents moved down south to Bengaluru, he decided to follow them there, learnt the local language (Kannada), and found himself a job at one of the garment factories nearby.  

And so, time has passed, with Johnny becoming a permanent fixture in my parents’ home and lives (they built him a small setup next to their house), and last year, they also found him a bride from Sholapur, a small town about a day’s journey by train.  Today, Johnny is happily married, happy to be close by, and is like a surrogate son to my folks.  What’s more, he and his new wife are expecting their first baby soon! 

And so, here’s the takeaway:  heartache may come in different shapes and forms, but then, so does love!  On my recent visit back home, there wasn’t a single moment that Johnny wasn’t around– to do whatever it is I wanted to do, or to take me anywhere I needed to go!  I am his Didi, you see, and he was thrilled to have me home!  It was love in action:  every ride on the scooter with him, every laugh we shared, every meal we had together, every memory we’d bring alive of our time growing up in Saharanpur– it was the pure face of love, smiling all the way!

There is an equilibrium in the universe, you see:  for every heartache and loss, there comes a time when it is balanced out with love and happiness.

The picture of me– what’s it doing here?  Well, you see that smashing kurta that I have on– well, Johnny gave that to me– apologizing all along for it not being so good and what not!  Silly boy that he is, I’ll have to call and tell him that I thought it so exquisite and so special to me, that I actually saved it for a special occasion:  my birthday yesterday!