Without lending it a
plethora of idealist thought or fanciful moralizing, here’s a true story for
those who believe in what switchfoot so beautifully presented in the song: “The
Shadow Proves The Sunshine”.
Early on in December, several years ago, I boarded a public tempo to make it to school in time. School buses have their history of negligence and errata, and mine too failed to arrive at all. No one being home, I had to fend for myself. Bunking was out of question, exams being on their way.
As I sat impatient, waiting for the tempo to fill up (a hazy hope considering it was early morning and winter had set in with its infamous bone-chilling winds), I looked out of the window and saw many cars whiz by; those richer, luckier, without-a-worry-in-the-world schoolkids being escorted by parents or chauffeurs. Needless to add, I felt very lonely and uncared for. While these students made it on time thanks to doting parents, my father always expected independence from me. Something I learnt a lot from, but at that point of time in a particular situation it just hurt and made me hate him.
So I waited, knowing that once I reach, I would be chided for indiscipline and laziness while those enjoying all the luxuries their parents shower on them would be upheld as wonderful “responsible” kids.
It was then that I noticed a little boy of twelve sitting next to me, trying very hard to peep into my satchel and also gazing at my uniform as if it was a rare treat for the eyes.
As against my neatly polished shoes and trim clothes, this boy was dressed in filthy rags and had no shoes on. I could also notice sharp little cuts on his feet which showed signs of continuous bleeding. A wave of sympathy and utter helplessness hit me. I tried initiating a conversation with him. I asked him what he was carrying in that bigger-than-himself sack. He looked at it, chuckled and told me that he worked in a liquor shop which paid him Rs.30 a month and also allowed him to carry home the empty bottles which he then sold for a rupee each. On further prodding, he said that he lived with his mother and whatever he earned, he handed over to her.
On this particular day, he was traveling on a vehicle because the previous night some drunkard had manhandled him and in the resulting commotion, he had lost his pair of slippers. He rued over the “immense” loss of money it would be to him, in making this trip since he was unable to walk home bare-footed.
I offered him a sandwich which he devoured and looked up at me, smiling a smile that shone to his eyes, a dazzle of happiness on his face and yellowing teeth bursting forth from a grin. As our destinations came closer, all I could do for him then was to pay his fare but, he refused and quite vehemently so, to take any more money from me which I had offered so that he could buy himself shoes.
As I began walking up the school driveway, noticing other schoolgirls chatting, fidgeting, walking around…those smiling faces, it struck me that I had learnt a very important lesson from that boy.
There I was, cribbing about the lack of a car to take me to school, considering the tempo a huge nuisance; and here was someone much younger than me, with the responsibilities of a family, for whom the very idea of using a vehicle was a prized issue.
There I was, bitterly fighting back tears at my parents’ “uncaring attitude”; and here was someone who selflessly earned to provide for a widowed mother.
There I was, wondering what light existed in my life with these shadows all around; and here was someone, who taught me that, the shadow proves the sunshine...
Early on in December, several years ago, I boarded a public tempo to make it to school in time. School buses have their history of negligence and errata, and mine too failed to arrive at all. No one being home, I had to fend for myself. Bunking was out of question, exams being on their way.
As I sat impatient, waiting for the tempo to fill up (a hazy hope considering it was early morning and winter had set in with its infamous bone-chilling winds), I looked out of the window and saw many cars whiz by; those richer, luckier, without-a-worry-in-the-world schoolkids being escorted by parents or chauffeurs. Needless to add, I felt very lonely and uncared for. While these students made it on time thanks to doting parents, my father always expected independence from me. Something I learnt a lot from, but at that point of time in a particular situation it just hurt and made me hate him.
So I waited, knowing that once I reach, I would be chided for indiscipline and laziness while those enjoying all the luxuries their parents shower on them would be upheld as wonderful “responsible” kids.
It was then that I noticed a little boy of twelve sitting next to me, trying very hard to peep into my satchel and also gazing at my uniform as if it was a rare treat for the eyes.
As against my neatly polished shoes and trim clothes, this boy was dressed in filthy rags and had no shoes on. I could also notice sharp little cuts on his feet which showed signs of continuous bleeding. A wave of sympathy and utter helplessness hit me. I tried initiating a conversation with him. I asked him what he was carrying in that bigger-than-himself sack. He looked at it, chuckled and told me that he worked in a liquor shop which paid him Rs.30 a month and also allowed him to carry home the empty bottles which he then sold for a rupee each. On further prodding, he said that he lived with his mother and whatever he earned, he handed over to her.
On this particular day, he was traveling on a vehicle because the previous night some drunkard had manhandled him and in the resulting commotion, he had lost his pair of slippers. He rued over the “immense” loss of money it would be to him, in making this trip since he was unable to walk home bare-footed.
I offered him a sandwich which he devoured and looked up at me, smiling a smile that shone to his eyes, a dazzle of happiness on his face and yellowing teeth bursting forth from a grin. As our destinations came closer, all I could do for him then was to pay his fare but, he refused and quite vehemently so, to take any more money from me which I had offered so that he could buy himself shoes.
As I began walking up the school driveway, noticing other schoolgirls chatting, fidgeting, walking around…those smiling faces, it struck me that I had learnt a very important lesson from that boy.
There I was, cribbing about the lack of a car to take me to school, considering the tempo a huge nuisance; and here was someone much younger than me, with the responsibilities of a family, for whom the very idea of using a vehicle was a prized issue.
There I was, bitterly fighting back tears at my parents’ “uncaring attitude”; and here was someone who selflessly earned to provide for a widowed mother.
There I was, wondering what light existed in my life with these shadows all around; and here was someone, who taught me that, the shadow proves the sunshine...
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