Her eyes were luminous with sorrow. Not the ‘I wish I could go to
that happening party’ kind of sorrow, but rather the kind that comes out
of living with a deep and ever-present pain. I listened quietly as she
spoke of growing up with the shadow of a mother who died when she was a
few days old and a father who had decided he did not want anything to do
with a tiny baby girl who would stand in the way of his moving on. He
had remarried within a month of losing his wife. She was left in an
orphanage till her maternal grandmother searched her out and got her
back home to her mother’s family.
She grew up with
no resentment towards her absent father but rather with the abiding
hope that he would one day come for her; that he would one day want his
daughter in his life. She built for herself an entire fantasy world
where she too had a father who cared for her as she saw her friends’
fathers care for their daughters. He would be kind and loving. He would
make her laugh. He would smooth away all her insecurities and fears. He
would definitely be proud of her; the girl who tried so hard to be good
so that she could make him want her back.
She told me
of the time when she finally got to meet him and he told her in no
uncertain terms that his responsibility was only to his current wife and
daughters. She had to continue as she always had. He had his priorities
straight and saw no place for her in his life. The fragile net of
interwoven illusions came apart in moments and she went back with
nothing more to hope for, with the burden of rejection weighing her
down, with the despair of being an orphan while yet having a living
parent.
I told her gently that one cannot force another
to love. He wasn’t worth her tears. He was not worth her desire to be
loved. You can, if you really want, continue to love someone who will
not give you any room in their shallow, self-obsessed hearts but truly
its better to get rid of them from your life entirely. He was her father
by an accident of birth alone and her wanting his affection would only
hurt her further.
S was sitting by me quietly. Suddenly
he spoke up softly, “I do not know your father but I have a daughter.
The moment I held her in my hands, I lost my heart to her. I love my son
of course but my daughter is the one who makes my life so very
joyous.No man who can disown a daughter deserves the warmth and
unconditional love that only girls can shower you with. How could he
give away his little girl?.”
I had no words to console
the young woman. She wasn’t looking for consolation. Perhaps all she
wanted was to share her story like the rest of us were sharing ours. I
felt respect for someone who could grow up wanting to help others even
while struggling with a life that was far from easy. I look around at
the young group we have at our centre for special needs children and
always ask myself why each one was there. I was motivated by Appu, my
partner was motivated by her fiery passion, another girl was
volunteering because she wanted to be able to help her brother – the
others however were simply blessed with a generous nature that made them
work hard at such adifficult job day in and day out. It dawns on me
that pain can ennoble you; it can make you a better person; it can make
you more sensitive to another’s hurt and it makes you go out and do
something about alleviating others’ pain. Maybe that’s what got us all
together in one place – the common thread of sorrow overlaid with the
determination to do the best we can. I hope my young friend makes her
peace with herself – she has a long life ahead and I pray it be both
intensely courageous and unabashedly joyous….
No comments:
Post a Comment