Visit to Shishu Mandir Children's Home

                                                                            

Sitting in the car on a sunday afternoon, I was in a particularly waspish mood. My son had given me the toughest time over his daily afternoon nap.In an attempt to make him have the much required rest after his morning session of summer play I had successfully managed to mess up my afternoon nap. I decided to get done with some pending work instead of sulking over my lost nap. Packets of clothes, shoes, toys and other things had been placed in the car earlier. All these were to be taken to Shishu Mandir. Shishu Mandir is a childrens project in Bangalore which was started by an Indo-German doctor couple. It is an institution of its own consisting of a children’s Home, School and a Community College.

Visits to Shishu Mandir children's home have always brought out mixed feelings in me. I am eager yet hesitant to go there. A two floored building with a terrace, it gives the look of a small but a cozy place.The office is on the ground floor. My husband and myself pay a visit to the childrens home once in every few months. Everytime we go straight to the office which is at the end of the building, hand over a small contribution from our side and return back. Everytime I Walk past the childrens home, my eyes try to peek beyond the windows and the walls just to get a glimpse of whats inside. All I can usually see from outside are a few baby cribs and a few babies in those cribs. I could never gather the courage to actually go inside the home for the fear of what I might get to see inside and what effect that sight might have on me;

Not until that day..
This time like always we handed the items we had brought, the care taker thanked us with gratitude and she turned around to go back. "Can we please have a look at the children's home if its not a problem ?" the words just popped out of my mouth before I knew it. She turned with a sweet smile and said "Of course you can; but the kids have gone to a home for the weekend, there is only a baby and a special girl child ". All I heard was "ofcourse you can-", the rest just faded away. Finally I was going to step inside rather than try to peek though the windows. Thousands of horrifying stories in the news-papers, number of scams unraveled in the past makes one lose faith in such organizations,worse still the fact that its all about innocent children instills an unknown fear of even viewing them closely. I did not wait for the caretaker to show me the way, I knew it, had wanted to walk that way so many times.

What do you want to see in there? I kept asking myself as I opened the main gate. The door was a bit ajar, I could see a cartoon movie playing on a small TV. My eyes kept peeking through the half open door trying to see more than what it showed me, as I took off my footwear in a hurry. As I opened the door the picture in front of me was that of a bright green colored room with minimalistic wood work of a few cupboards and a TV cabinet. The room had two baby beds, nicely made with clean fresh sheets laid on them. There was a girl sitting on the floor in black punjabi suit with short hair about the age of 12 or 13. She gave me a bright smile with a glint in her eyes-I smiled back at her. I noticed a movement about from the corner of my eye. As I turned my attention that way I saw a small baby lying on a mat right next to me.Curly hair, big eyes, cute little hands and feet, he was adorable like most babies are. He had a rattle in his hand and his eyes were on the movie playing on the TV. I wanted to play with him but I had to do something more first. I walked past the girl towards the inner room- it was smaller than the first. A bunker bed was placed touching the wall. Attached to the room were two bathrooms. I had to see them. I have this weird notion that bathroom is the litmus test for the cleanliness of a place. To my surprise and immense contentment it was spotlessly clean.

I returned to indulge myself in the cuteness of the innocent baby. He now graced me with a few uninterested glances in between the movie. Upon asking his name the care taker answered "His name is Monish and he is 11 months". Looking at my interest in the baby she went on to tell me that he could not sit, walk or even crawl because of a condition called glass bones a rare inherited disease that involves fragile bones. When he rolls over he tries to pull himself ahead with the help of his forehead. One more look at those big beautiful eyes and my heart broke into a million pieces, my smile faded away. I asked if the condition was curable to which she replied that it can be cured to some extent but not completely.They had been taking him to the hospital for regular check-ups and treatments. "The physical disability due to the disease is not the real problem" said the care taker," Because of this conditon of Monish there are negligible chances of him getting adopted". My stomach was crunching, and I could feel my eyes go moist. I knew it was time for me to leave. Thanking the care taker for her kindness we retraced our steps back to the main gate.While I was closing the main gate I saw Monish again, to my surprise this time he was actually trying to look at us with his head turned up, then he rolled over on his tummy still looking at us - I stood there looking at him for a moment then walked away.

Once in the car I blabbered too much too fast about how I found the home to be cozy, clean and totally conducive for the developement of underprivileged and orphan kids, how the transparency of all these things was evident from the readiness of the staff to show us around the home on a random visit. All this talk lasted merely five minutes, suddenly I had nothing more to say. My husband was talking but somehow his words were not reaching my ear. A few minutes later I realised why, when I felt the first warm tear trickled down my cheek. I was trying so hard to supress that tear that I couldnt hear him. Though I tried to hide it, he saw me wipe that tear. He pulled me close with his arm around me and tried to comfort me as I cried my heart out. I felt a slight tremble in his voice as he spoke. As I raised my head to look at him I saw a tear in the corner of his right eye. Neither of us knew the exact reason for the tears, but at that time we both realised being emotional or heavy hearted about this was not going to make a difference. but doing something can.

I saw everything I wanted to, got all the questions in my mind answered when I visited shishu mandir this time.The place was children's home in true sense and not just a set of walls and windows arranged haphazardly.
　
Foundations like shishu mandir need every possible help from the society. Help to these organizations can be in many ways- from devoting time being volunteers for the various programs they organize for kids, to financial help, to donating necessary items, and also adopting. Its not necessary to be a Gandhi or a Mother Teresssa and give up all your other ambitions and desires in life to devote your entire life to this cause. All you need to do is spare a little time from your life. The smallest contributions can make a huge difference to them.

If you live in Bangalore please visit Shishu Mandir atleast once.
www.shishumandir.com is the official website on the foundation. It has all the information about the organisation also regarding donations, volunteer work and more.