365 DAYS 365 TALES

My Birthday

"Give it to him," my dad whispers.

I fish in my purse and hand over a little bundle of green bills to Ragav, along with the sweet packets.

He smiles politely while accepting them and thanks me. He then turn his attention to my dad.

"And thank you for the donation, sir. It means so much to us," Ragav tells my dad and I am like what? When is that?

My dad grins wide, nodding his head in acknowledgement. The man leads us to the hut and to the front door inside it. Suddenly, almost surprisingly, I am surrounded by little kids, hundreds of them, aged between three and twelve.

Before I could ask what is happening, they starts to wish me, singing the song. I am overwhelmed by their excitement, for my birthday? I smile at them politely. while some of them offers me some sweets, I take it from them, thanking them.

"No sister... Thank you," one of the little girl says, with a sweet smile, dimples coating her chubby cheeks.

I am bewildered, as of what has become of the little girl to thank me? I gesture her to come near me and crouch down to her level. She walks towards me, with her baby tooths on display.

"Why would you thank me?" I ask, stroking her dirty cheeks, reverently.

"It's because of you, we get chocolate," she said, in her baby voice, showing the cheapest chocolate I had ever known.

I struggle to even force a smile on my lips, let alone a straight face. My nose stings, like I smell a pepper, only I cannot sneeze but want to cry out loud. I bite my lower lip to gain the control, sniffing twice, by looking at the board and charts hanging around the dorm like area. The dorm can occupy a hundred kids, I notice. The black boards are all full with various subjects, separate by partition lines.

While I look around, the little girl holds my hand and I smile at her, the stinging in my nose now subsided. Yet, I cannot get myself to open my mouth to utter a word, not even to ask the little one's name, in the fear that I will break.

A chart gets my attention and I examine it closure. It is a colour pencil sketch, obviously of a little child's handiwork. I walk near and look at it intently. That picture does it. It break me to bits and pieces, from which I know I can never come out.

It's a crumpled sheet of muddy paper, like a withered leaf on an autumn day. There stands a boy, a little boy from the half trousers he wear. His hand holds a toy, probably a train, I am not sure while his other hand holds another hand, a woman's hand. She is wearing a saree and has a big red bindhi on her forehead. She is portrayed as the Mom, not only in this sketch but in every child's sketch.

There, at a little further, a man is pulling a cart with huge sacks on it. Litters of sweat dropping to the ground. He is trying really hard to pull the cart and it is obvious in the angle his body is leaning.

A second set of the same scene to the right corner of the paper shows, the man comes near the kid and his mom. His contorted face lighten up seeing them, smiling wide while the kid jumps in excitement.

A third column at the bottom of the page shows, the kid is sitting on the man's neck, happy and carefree, waving his hands above his head, like he is flying in the sky. With one hand, the man secures the kid and with the free hand, he took his wife's hand. They make a happy family, a big grin plastering on all their faces.

My heart crumbled seeing the crushed paper, holding a beautiful meaning to a child. I feel my lips quiver and my nose burn like sniffing chillies, too hot. The drops which I have struggled to control, spilled out, touching the ground like the first drops of the monsoon rain. And I know the storm that begin at the moment, will not subside soon.

I bury my face into my hands and wail, my shoulders shake with my agony. I can't control it. Why is the God so cruel? What did these little kids ever do to deserve this pain?

Soon, a hand pulls me and holds me against a hard chest. I do not have to look up to know it's my dad. I drench his red t-shirt that turns to maroon with each of my salty tears.

"What is it?" my dad asks me, softly, stroking my hair reverently.

I can't get myself to open my mouth, instead I point out in the general direction of the sketch, still burrying my head on my dad's chest. I feel my dad examining the sketches. I look up and point out the exact one.

"Don't worry honey. Everything will be alright," he sooths me, wiping away the tear drop that leave my eyes, "Now put up your happy face. Look at the kids..." he indicates the kids around us, bewildered and sad, "Don't make them cry," he whispers.

On seeing their faces, I quickly wipe away my tears and put up a best smile i can muster.

"What's wrong?" the chubby little girl asks me.

I crouch down to her level, "It's just I got a dust in my eyes. Now my dad has taken it away. I'm alright."

"Oh!" her mouth forms the same letter, "I rub my eyes myself again and again, if i got dust in my eyes. I have no daddy, you see." I realise my mistake only after making it. It's my fault to talk about my dad infront of the orphan kids. Before I break down again, my mess is cleared by a reverent voice.

"You are wrong. I'm here," the man in the dirty dhothi chimes in. "Am I not your dad?" he asks.

"Yes," she says and run into his outstretch arms, hugging his legs.

He smiles, looking at the other children, "who are all my babies," he asks, raising his hands in the air, the little girl still clinging onto his leg.

"Me...me...me..." the chorus voices sing, as the children runs to him forming a group hug. I can't control myself. I join them hugging the children from the back. To my surprise, they engulf me into their bear hug chain. I feel like I have done something worthwhile on my birthday. And I realise somehow there is always someone to take care of every child, as an angel.

Ragav looks like a guardian Angel to me at that moment.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Hi guys, after a long time....

Akiprabagar (30/04)

Yes, you got it right. Today is my birthday. 

But wait, before you tell it to anyone, 

here's your one final flag.

"They save the day for you,

Make things look very easy,

With abilities like no one else,

They are always very busy."