The healing touch

Preet Mandir on East Street, Camp, is a well-maintained private home, warm cosy little heaven with a total capacity of 50 children.

“We have all kinds of children here,” says the senior social worker, “aged one day to seven years, abandoned and rescued by the police, from remand homes, orphans, born of unwed mothers and widows”.

What do they tell them about their parents? “They’re too young to be told the stark truth. So we tell them that they’re in a hostel. If and when they’re adopted we tell them that their parents are back for them”.

And do they have problems in terms of funds? “People are kind enough. We are lucky enough to have grain, vegetables, milk, clothes, toys and other essentials. But the crunch is felt when it comes to money. Preet Mandir is branching out in Kalyani Nagar. We need funds for a new building. People don’t mind directly giving to the child but when it comes to indirect ways like construction, they aren’t forthcoming at all,” he reveals grimly.

What about adoption criteria? “As per the law, for the first 90 days that a child is there with us, we conduct a thorough research as regards the child’s biological parents, friends, relatives and so on. If nothing works out he/ she is eligible for adoption”.

Does he have any message to convey? “Indeed I do, to the youth which is more socially aware than the previous generations. Come forward, adopt a child, instead of compounding the population growth. These are our children, if we don’t care for them, who will”?

Kusumbai Motichand on the other hand, is basically a Mahila Seva Mandal-cum-children’s home. Besides housing 10 times as many inmates as Preet Mandir, its problems, but naturally, are greater.

And life out here is considerably more stark. The buildings are dilapidated, the paint peeling off the walls, moth-eaten cabinets, musty overcrowded rooms.

The superintendent `didi’ says, “There’s a shortage of funds to begin with. We’re a charitable trust. The government does help out. But Rs 500 per child every month is far from enough to feed, clothe, educate the child and maintain the institute.

“However, that’s not the biggest problem. The biggest problem our children face is a lack of human touch. There are 450 children out here and many more women. How is it humanly possible for us to pay attention to them all?

So what if you aren’t in a position to adopt a child? So what even if you can’t sponsor one? You can still come here, make friends with a little one, talk to them, get a small gift. You don’t know how big a thing, it is for someone who’s never had anyone at all to call their own.

“Saturdays and Thursdays are visitors’ day. Children who are lucky enough to have relatives and friends get visitors. But the ones who are left out feel horrible”.

The pain in her voice is evident as she continues, “Ours is basically a Mahila Seva Sadan, where we help out all kinds of women, widows, abandoned wives, unwed mothers. So many of the girls born and brought up here find it difficult to get suitable grooms. Why? They’re educated, decent, beautiful, their only crime is that they are orphans. It’s high time society’s indifferent attitude changed”.

As I left her office, I got caught up with 20-year-old Mitthu. Proudly, she revealed she’d come to her maher for her delivery. “You know, I write. Would you like to see my book?” she offers eagerly.

With childlike pride and glee, she shows me – a complete stranger – the poetry she’s written.

Nothing very uncommon. It speaks of her feelings, her pain, her trauma, her hopes, her aspirations, her dreams.

She too, has a right to dream you know. And a need to be loved.