EVERY CHILD IS A WONDER (Short story)

 

 

EVERY CHILD IS A WONDER

 

“Uncle… It’s for you…” Twelve year old Ajith presented me a gold-plated metal-plaque, upon which some wordings were inscribed… Glowing with extreme happiness, he opened the glass-door of the show-case in our drawing room and placed it inside. “There is no other place more apt than this…”

♠

Four years back….

Whether blue or white-collar, transfers play an unavoidable role in the career of any employee and I am no exception. What I had lost, during the last transfer, was the great many discussions during the long train journeys with eminent co-passengers who could fill my literary life with immense experiences. The new college, where I work now, is just 40 km away my rented house where I live with my wife and children and the only mode of conveyance is the Red Bus. Rash driving of the state owned bus drivers and the numerous peeping-toms prevented me from opening up my laptop, while travelling, almost permanently. At last, poetry appeared again as my last refuge.

It was clumsy evening as the temperature inside our house reached an all-time high of infinite degrees. Boys were still quite busy with cartoons on television.

“Amar, show me your notebooks,” my wife began her daily ritual of teaching our younger son, who is in fourth standard. 

Soon, she started taking high resolution pictures of the current lessons in his notebook using an expensive mobile phone which was gifted by Anitha, one of her long-term friends.

“What are you doing?” I couldn’t stop asking.

Unfortunately, she was not at all listening at all!

♠

“When did you install ‘WhatsApp’ in your mobile?”

“It was installed by Anitha,” replied my wife. “Just tell me, how to remove the old chats?” she asked innocently while handing over her mobile phone to me.

Fortunately, all the chats, to be removed, were between Anita and her. And they contained nothing but the photographs of the class-notes of my younger son.

“What’s happening in between you all?” I was getting puzzled. “Why do you send all these to her?”

“It’s for Ajith… ”

Ajith… When did I meet him for the first time?

♠

Three months back…

Being the only invited guests, we reached Anita’s well-furnished flat at around seven in the evening. Ajith, the eight year old birthday-boy, was wearing some expensive sparkling dress. Though Anita was a long term friend of my wife, I hadn’t met her since that day. She is a tall, blonde woman. Gifts were exchanged, birthday-cake was cut. Soon, the little boys made a wonderful friendship and they started playing and discussing many things. Ajith disliked speaking in Malayalam, his mother-tongue.

Suman, the husband of Anita, was very happy to speak me in Tamil – his mother-tongue and he spoke to Anita only in English. Suman and Anita were two highly-paid employees working for an international hotel chain when they had met for the first time. He is a Roman Catholic and she is a Brahmin, an upper-caste Hindu clan.

Superb food was served as Suman was working as an executive chef in a seven-star hotel in the city. Knives and forks were quite new to my sons and they kept them aside like unwanted or useless things. Both the women were discussing hell a lot of things, right from their school days to the mighty present, and laughing loudly. Memories, and being the part of memories, are the greatest treasures of anyone who live upon earth.

Unfortunately, Suman had to go out for some urgent assignment and I was left alone in the drawing room.

“This is a Ferrari… one of the fastest cars in the world,” Ajith began to explain even the minute details of his expensive toy collection to my sons. And fortunately, it was a brand new experience to them. My sons seemed like so tiny before the obese figure of Ajith. He had the size of an eleven or twelve year old boy.  Soon, he left them alone with the replicas of modern cars and sat beside me.

“Hello Uncle… I think, you feel bored…,” Ajith said in English.

“Not exactly…”

“Don’t worry… I will give you company.”

“You are welcome…Young man…”

“Thank you.”

“By the way, in which standard are you studying?”

“I will have to join in fourth standard… in a new school… But, there is a problem…”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know how to read, write and speak in Malayalam…”

“Is that a big problem?”

“Yes… Mommy is trying to teach me… But, it’s really boring… All the letters have the shape of Jilebi… (Indian sweet)…”

“You have no choice other than learning this language, if you wish to survive in Kerala,” I told coldly.

“Why should I learn Malayalam when think in English, speak in English and write in English? I don’t think a local language is so important in life.” Ajith left me as he got angry.

He started changing TV channels…  Soon, he got bored and switched it off the TV. Unfortunately, he was the only disorganized being in that house.

“Guys, how is my car collection?” Ajith asked my kids. Quite unsettled, Ajith was back to me in ten minutes.

“Uncle, please give me your mobile phone… I want to take some snaps…”

♠

Ajith joined the same class where my younger son was studying and he was the only friend he had. Two months passed without any important happenings. But, Anitha was forced to take leave on that day as she was summoned to the school by Mr Pushkar Nath, the executive officer.

“Madam… Unfortunately, I am forced to inform that Master Ajith is a real problem kid to most of the teachers as well as his classmates…” he informed her like corpse just got up from the morgue. 

“Is it?”

“Do you know what happened yesterday?  Someone called him ‘Thadiyaa*.’ Luckily, he didn’t understand the meaning.” (*fat boy)

“Then?”

“Then what? We had to shift him to some other division…” old man was getting angry… “Your son doesn’t take down class notes… He doesn’t give any care to language classes… Quite unsettled and switches too quickly from one activity to the next… Very impulsive and get distracted easily… Talks nonstop and interrupt people, even including teachers and seniors… He is very poor in controlling emotions… We cannot tolerate such disorganized kids…”

Anitha didn’t even speak a single word in support of her son and the old man was getting perplexed.  

♠

Usually, I don’t check the workbooks of my sons. I never liked to interfere in their thought process. Unfortunately, it used to create a lot of in-home fights with my wife. A piece of paper, lying on his study table, with very strange, but a peculiar handwriting created a fatal attraction in my mind.

“It’s not mine,” my younger son shouted loudly. “Dad… It’s a class assignment written by Ajith… You know… Our class teacher Miss asked us to write a simple essay on a visit to park… ”

Park

‘I see an old bench where an aged couple is sitting. Two small girls are sitting on the see-saw. Rocking horse is left alone. Ice-cream vendor sits alone as nobody is interested in his cheap products. Some bugs are moving around yellow flowers. Three boys are harassing a dragonfly by clipping its transparent wings.  Its multifaceted eyes glitter in fear. Two crows, sitting on a large tree, watch the small food packet in my hand.’

“It’s amazing… Ajith is so creative…” I couldn’t hide my feelings.

“Our class Miss gave him just two out of ten,” my younger son laughed.

“Why?”

“She says, it doesn’t have the structure of an essay…”

“What did you write?”

“Yesterday, I and Ajith went on a short picnic to a city park. Park is a place where children and elder people come to spend their leisure time…” words began to shower as if some torrential rain was going on.

“Enough…”

“Dad… he sleeps too much now-a-days in class…”

“What?”

♠

It was a Friday evening… I was wandering through the empty space between huge racks in city super-market. I had to find more than twenty grocery items with the help of a long message on my smartphone.

“Where the hell is salt?” I was forced to ask impatiently.

Someone handed over a cover of iodized salt, with a cute smile upon her face. It was Sheeja, my school-day’s sweetheart. Love is one-sided most of the times.

“I heard, you were there in Dubai…”

“I came back three months ago,” she replied calmly.

“So… what are you doing now?”

“I am working as a teacher… to be very precise, I am the class teacher of your younger son,” she laughed.

“I didn’t know that! That’s great!”

“You are the same lazy guy! The friendship between Ajith and your little boy is quite notorious in our school. Do you have any idea about that?”

“I know, they are very close… Let me ask you a very simple question, how come Ajith sleep during class hours?”

“Don’t you know that Master Ajith is hyperactive…?”

“Is that not a form of intelligence?”

“Yes… You were the most hyperactive kid I have ever seen in my life!”

“Then, what is wrong with him?”

“Premji… I think he is under medication… Poor boy has been identified with ADHD… that means attention deficit hyperactivity disorder…  He is under treatment for ADHD and other kinds of behavior problems… His parents don’t have quality time to spare for him…”

“I read a short essay written by him… Why did you give him two out of ten for his short essay?”

“I am sorry Premji… Creative kids are misfits in most of the traditional schools!” She remained silent for a moment… “More than medicines, Ajith needs quality time and care from his parents.” She wiped her eyes. “He needs help in learning how to change the way he acts… He needs help in dealing with his feelings like anger, sadness and worries... You know, his IQ is more than all other students…”

♠

“What are you giving him?” my wife asked Anita quite furiously.

“Ritalin,” she replied sadly.

“It’s a central nervous system stimulant which affects the chemicals in the brain and nerves that contribute to hyperactivity and impulse control... Are you not aware that these medicines are quite addictive?”

“But… I am helpless…” Anitha replied painfully. “How can I sacrifice my career?”

“You may be… But, I cannot leave a helpless child like that…” my wife replied stubbornly. “I will pick him from the school along with my boys in the evening… and he will study in company of them. But, no more medicines from today onwards…”

 ♠

“Play Football for the next twenty minutes,” my wife told the three boys while serving them hot steam-cakes in the evening.

“Auntie… What is this?” Ajith asked while pointing towards it.

“You have to eat some good food… You won’t get any junk food from here… Is that clear?” 

“As you like,” he had a bite. “Tastes good…”

“You all need some exercise… some studies and some time for creativity…,” I said calmly.

“Is that really needed?” Ajith had a doubt.

“Yes Ajith… and you are responsible of making sure all these getting done…” replied my wife while handing them over an expensive football. “If anyone provokes you, what will you do?”

“What will I do?”

“Just ignore them!”

♠

Either Anitha or Suman used to pick him around nine pm in the evening. Days went on like this… Ajith began to learn Malayalam alphabets quite faster… He started teaching my son all his expertise like mental mathematics… We used to appreciate all of them in open, especially Ajith. Anitha and her husband were also very happy to appreciate the children.

Ajith became a wonderful football player within a short span of time and his plumb body attained natural fitness in the cost of cutting down his excess energy. Our elder son helped the little ones in their studies with a lot of enthusiasm.

“I am going to give you a small test…. Can you sit calm for ten minutes?” my wife told them one evening. “Are you ready?”

“Yes…” they replied together…

“Now… Close your eyes and sit relaxed for ten minutes… Do not open your eyes at any cost…”

Unfortunately, Ajith couldn’t close his eyes and sit idle not more than three minutes… He closed his eyes again and tried to sit calm for the next seven minutes… Our sons also opened their eyes after five or six minutes… She gave some chocolates to all as a simple reward.

“Ajith… you know, there is a shortcut to win this game,” I told Ajith secretly.

“What’s that uncle?”

“Which is your favourite fragrance?”

“I like the fragrance of mangoes!”

“Good… Whenever you sit for relaxation game, just think of the fragrance of mangos… When you take a deep breath, just feel the smell of ripe mangos entering your nostrils. Just feel it for ten minutes… I bet, nobody can beat you…”

“That’s great uncle…” Ajith replied happily…

♠

“Memory is running out of space,” my elder son read out a short message in my smart phone. Soon, he connected the same to the computer. I kept on removing all unwanted pictures and other downloads and at last, I could found out a hidden folder containing some stunning photographs and well-taken videos. All of them were taken by Ajith during his birthday party, some months back.

“Ajith, you are simply brilliant… You can use this whenever you feel like taking some videos,” I told him while handing over my Sony Handicam.

“Thanks uncle… I have used this HDR-C190 Handicam camcorder many times earlier…”

“You are a wonderful photographer… Why don’t you take some short movies?” I asked.

“To become a good movie-maker, Ajit, you have to read a lot,” my wife advised him.

“I will read some books in English…”

“You will have to read many books in Malayalam too… Will you?”

“Surely… Auntie…”

“You will have to watch movies right from starting to end…”

“Surely…”

“Very good… Young man…” She congratulated him loudly.

♠

Years went by happily… And our eyes fell on the beautiful letters inscribed on that gold plated metal-plaque….

“Best short-film maker of 2015….” My wife read it out….

Yes… we were the only actors in his debut short-movie called ‘normal life!’

♠

 

Premji