Moral Story – Home is where We have to Gather Grace
Photo credit: ronnieb from morguefile.com
His wife’s intermittent tap on his shoulder woke him up from deep slumber; though he wanted sleeping in, the second thought nudged away the former affirming ‘you’d miss the estate’s pick-up’. So, he got up and chucked the rustic mat aside. His children, Kyra and Riyana, were unusually awake before the usual time as they had an exam. After his ablutions, he squatted for breakfast. Tearing the date of the previous day, Jenny, his wife, stated exuberantly,” There are only four days more for Christmas; we will be in Vailankanni celebrating this Christmas.” As days neared, her bubbling joy doubled. Because, celebrating Christmas at the shrine of Our Lady of Good Health of Vailankanni was of her three-year-plan. Planning was afoot every year, but paucity of money stood as a shutter for execution; hence, the programme was postponed on and on. Moreover, that year the possibility ripened to closer as a result of having managed to save some money over years.
“Is my lunch packet ready?” Vino asked her.
“Packing,” her shout from the kitchen reverberated around the house. Of course, it was an additional work for her. Authorities out of the estate restricted labours from carrying any bag or tiffin box into the estate and bringing out the estate in order to completely stop pilfering of estate property, implemented after a man was caught under malpractice.
Taking his lunch packet, Vino started walking toward Kodaikanal bus station. He had to reach by eight a.m. or he would miss the pick- up truck as well as a day work and its salary. Three kilometres was a quite long distance to go on foot, but he liked it. He liked the solitary path bedded with pearly pebbles, the serpentine course of the river on the right, flowing from the cascade, stupendous undulations of the hills. Both sides of the path were replete with variety of colourful flowers on which dew falls were asleep; probably he was the first one to go relishing in the early morning.
He reached the bus station half-an-hour ahead and was waiting for the pick-up. The place, being a bustling tourist place, though morning, was crammed with all sorts of noises like horn sound of busses, the constant invitation of the buyers ,etc. He sat on a stone bench a few yards away from the bus stop, glimpsing a stretch of lofty towers and palatial buildings in front of him. His much attention grabbing was as usual a glitzy garment shop, yet unopened. Even though he happened to pass by it almost every day, he never had a chance of getting into it.
“Day after tomorrow,” he said to himself,” I will come here and buy my children nice dresses.”
Many a time he desired, but never did it. Casted his mind back to the saved money, he made an approximate division for how much he should spend for garments besides the expenditures, to and fro, for the trip. Will Jenny accept it? And will there be sufficient money, first of all? An internal war between those two questions broke out in the battlefield of his mind. But, it was interrupted by a shrill voice of a small boy who came over there begging passengers for help. So pathetic was the boy that his voice overflow with so much melancholy. Some out of compassion and some for sake offered him a few coins, but a passenger who seemed to be a bit educated refused to give him anything saying, “You should not come for begging; go and study,” which drew the attention of most people. The boy could reply nothing, but trudged in silence towards other passengers. The same man later opined casually to his neighbour, “We should not encourage children to beg by offering money.”
Life is a book, if so, then every person is a page, but who spares time to read it?
The boy, not a ragamuffin, not slovenly, slowly came to Vino. His appearance and the way he asked for help revealed that he was not a beggar. ‘Then why should he be begging here right now?’ That nagging thought kindled Vino to engage him in a conversation. To break the spell, he began with a question ‘what is your name?’
“I’m Prabhu,” replied the boy. Conversation between Vino and the boy longed to two minutes and Vino came to know something about him. He was from Minali, an interior hamlet five km from Kodaikanal town. Having lost his father in an accident, he had only his mother and a sibling. His mother, as a charwoman, was the sole bread winner of the family, striving hard to make both ends meet. As a woman she underwent a chain of ordeals. Life somehow moved like a tossing boat against rough waves. All of a sudden she fell sick and her progeny were like fish out of water not knowing what to do from out of nothing for their living. Furthermore, his sister was famished; he was in dire need of money to buy medicine for his mother and food for his starving sibling. The poor boy nothing else could do than beseeching for help in the public. Who is responsible for his begging, the society or poverty of the family? While he was expounding to Vino about the situation, tears were trickling down his cheeks which drenched Vino’s eyes too.
After listening to him, Vino felt like helping him by all means, but unfortunately, he had nothing on him. He never held money with him while going for work, for the estate pick-up was a free service to the workers. Vino, delineating to the boy about his inability to help him better, sans a second thought, offered him the food packet that he had for his lunch. The boy joyfully received it and thanking Vino whole heartedly, he left the place.
Vino was more than happy, overwhelmed with a sense of contentment. He kept thinking about the boy, and waited for the truck to arrive. All he could do within a few minutes was to offer the boy a little help. Of course, that would not have been a greater help for him as he was in greater need. However, he could not think of some other possibilities in that confined situation.
Hardly had a few minutes passed when Vino heard someone calling him ‘Anna… Anna.’ It brought him back to reality from his reflections. Just gazed aside, to his wonder the same boy stood there again. “Haven’t you gone home?” Vino asked. No answer, but rather the boy posted an impromptu question,” You have given me the food packet that you had for your lunch; then what will you do for yourself? It drenched Vino’s eyes and melted his heart.
‘Who taught him the sense of understanding others’ needs despite he is in urgent need?’
Filled with emotions, while telling the boy to go home and quench his sister’s hunger, the truck arrived.
As Vino was travelling, within that short journey, thousands of questions flashed across his mind. What will the boy do? How will they cope with life? How will he revive his mother’s health? What about their future if she ends up in a futile? Can I provide him with some money? Will Jenny accept it?
‘I must render him some money.’ Vino decided; his dream of shopping in the glitzy mall faded away. Only the face of the boy appeared before him.
Vino returned home around 5 pm. He gradually said to Jenny, “I need some money.”
“How much?” She asked.
“Some ten hundreds.”
“Why”, she was befogged, also surprised. Vino explained to her about his encounter in the morning. Her face betrayed tremendous reluctance. Being the finance minister of the family she had to tackle the situation in times of recession or deficiency and had learnt the rudiments of managing tough times. Family finance was her oversight and versatile as Vino was sure of. She said after a while, “Yes we can help him; I think the rest of the money will be sufficient for our trip.” Vino was blushed with resplendent joy.
Vino rushed to Minali, and after a long search he found Prabhu’s shanty. His mother, having been covered with tattered sack clothes, was lying on an archaic mat. Innocent children stood helpless. Even though she was suffering from severe fever, she was adamant, perhaps for a stranger, to go with Vino to a nearby hospital for treatment. Vino’s compassionate words and constant call made her obey. She was admitted to Supam, a private hospital. Examining her doctors treated her intensely as she had an over-temperature which might cause even coma. And later she was put in the ICU. Before leaving for home, Vino bought them food and gave some money to Prabhu with a promise of seeing them tomorrow.
Vino spent a sleepless night thinking of the condition of Prabhu’s mom. ‘Medicine is given by doctors, but healing is only by God. God is with us and he will care for us’. Jenny confronted Vino. Both offered prayers for the speedy recovery.
On Vino’s request Jenny in the following day went with food and stayed with them since the morning. Her presence was necessary for buying medicines and attending to doctor when called. After work Vino went there. Jenny said to Vino,” Blood test as well as other sundry tests was conducted; she is affected by Typhoid.” She added saying,” But doctor said nothing to worry; medicines are given and she is better now. She will be discharged tomorrow. And she must come only after some days for a check-up.” Vino felt relief.
Almost half of what Vino and Jenny had managed to save over three years for the trip to Vailankanni was over for medical expenses and still remained doctor fee and room rent. “Will our much-expected trip be cancelled? Should I disappoint my Jenny? “Vino felt within himself. “We ask God whatever we want God gives us whatever we need,” he concluded.
Discharged, Mary Prabhu’s mom, extended her heart-felt gratitude to Vino and Jenny saying,” Thank you very much for your great favour and I will reciprocate it in course of time”.
Jeny requested Mary and his children to stay with them until her health was completely alright. They accepted the invitation and proceeded with Jenny and Vino.
“Jenny, tonight we’ve to leave for Vailankanni,” Vino said. Jenny was not fraught with any sort of disappointment, but rather she said,” Fine, next year is not too far, will arrive in like next week.”
Vino was proud of his wife. Prabhu and his sister played with Kyra and Riyana; they were extremely happy. Mary was getting better. That Christmas brought a new relationship, a new bond between Vino’s and Prabhu’s families. Christmas means joy, joy to world, peace and happiness in our hearts. They celebrated the Christmas with joy and ecstasy.
People travel miles in search of grace, but home is where we have to gather grace.
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