As Ben wrapped his arms possessively around me, the Headmistress gave a stern smirk and said, ‘Be very careful with Ben. He will sweep any girl off her feet.’ And boy, he did. He not only swept me off my feet but also made me fall in love with him and his mischievous smile the moment we were introduced. He called me ‘Miss from Nagaland, my girlfriend,’ and I called him ‘My Ben’.
His real name was Benjamin. Everyone called him Ben when happy and Benjy when we were mad at him. He hated Benjy so he had to behave himself if he wanted to be called Ben.
‘My Ben’, around eight years old, was a Khasi, an orphan and blind since birth. I met him at the Jyoti Shroadh School for the Blind at Laitumkhrah, Shillong where I volunteer very often, ever since my College days, as a member of the Indo Global Social Service Society (IGSSS). When we were given a chance to choose our field for volunteering, I chose to work for children with special needs – blind, deaf & dumb and the mentally retarded. Every year, for a month, I’m to volunteer at various organizations around the country and for obvious reasons, I keep going to Shillong. The ‘one month’ has now, of course, dwindled to ‘one week’ due to paucity of leave from office.
We are given freedom to stay at the hostel with the children or just take classes. I’d always choose the former and that meant spending more time with Ben and the rest of the children, around fifty of them. We’d teach stuffs like distinguishing between round and triangular objects by touching models, recognizing animals and their noise by feeling their molded shapes and listening to their sounds etc. Teachers are told not to encourage children to hold them or touch them frequently as the School wants them to grow up without depending on others’ support.
But ‘My Ben’ was not like the rest. He would sense when I entered the door and run to give me a hug and insisted on sitting on my lap during class hours. After all, I was his girlfriend and he was very possessive. I later learnt that the only loved ones Ben knew were the people at the institution because no one came to pick him up during holidays. There was no one to whom he was the most important person, no one who would care. All that Ben longed for was a home he would truly belong to. He got attached to anyone who showered the slightest affection. He longed for warmth, for love, and thus his attachment to me too.
Every evening the children were taught to walk around the hostel compound by counting steps. Every time Ben would falter. But ‘My Ben’, with the chubby cheeks and soft short hair, would never falter to count almost thirty steps every morning, up to my room in the second floor, to knock at my door to wish me good morning.
Everyday Ben would ask me what colour of dress I wore and couldn’t understand why I had seven studs on my ears while others had two. He would touch my hair and ask me if it was straight or curly. After the step counting walk every evening, Ben would curl up his little fingers around mine and listen to songs on my cell phone. He loved listening and singing. He would ask me if Nagaland was far far away because he wanted to come home with me. And Ben wanted to marry me when he would be old enough.
Despite his restless nature, I’d wanted to bring Ben home at least once during Christmas. And everyone knew how much the authorities had to trust a volunteer to take a blind boy away for a week. That year, Ben spent his puja holidays at a Convent because, as usual, no one came to fetch him home. While he was chasing a ball in the backyard, he fell into a huge uncovered water tank and his body was fished out after long agonizing hours because the opening of the tank was only the size of a man-hole. Finally, finally ‘My Ben’ found a home he would truly belong to forever, a home where he would be surrounded by loved ones and who would never abandon him ever again… and surely my boyfriend might be keeping the angels really really busy…
It’s been two years since Ben has left this world but I haven’t cried over him as yet. That is because tears refuse to gather, because I still haven’t forgiven the workers there for their irresponsible deed that led to Ben’s death.
At times when the sunny blue sky is spotted with specks of clouds, I look up with a smile believing that ‘My Ben’ might be up there prancing around the clouds with his guardian angels; and who knows he might just throw a cloud ball at me from above…
Good Posts..You really write well...I am sure this foorum will give your creative insights a much better opening than the DIPR briefs!!!
ReplyDeleteKeep it up..
Wow, that was too heart rending for words. The kind of stuff you read and get a really different feel. It's like i can picture your Ben throughout. It's very sad but it does provide some insight :) Beautifully written!
ReplyDeleteThanks...some stories are written from the heart...
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