A day enjoyed is a day well spent!

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I meant to blog a couple of days ago but my head was still reeling from the fun we  had at St. Anthony’s home for girls, Verna. My husband and I are helping one of our close friends Ronsley (as mentioned in an earlier blog) on a project wherein he’s trying to reach out to as many children as possible and helping them with one good meal, once a week. Excited about the day, we set out to pick up the food and head out towards our destination. The drive seemed to take forever, weaving our way through the vehicles on the street, dodging an occasional reckless driver, we reached St. Anthony’s home on the dot of 12:30 p.m. Expecting to see a newly constructed ground plus one, I was pleasantly surprised to see a sprawling, old Portuguese styled ancestral house.

We were greeted so warmly and hospitably that we did not feel like we were going there for the first time. Everything about the majestic bungalow was appealing, from the entrance, to the well maintained garden right down to the walk indoors to the dining area. I fell in love with the house, the rooms, everything was bright, airy and friendly. The nuns in charge seemed like they rarely had company and were just overflowing with stories about the house, about their lives, about the girls they take care of, about their lives. I was speechless at the love the nuns had for these girls, the sacrifices and all done with no complaints. This is compassion, this is humanity that we have forgotten while being so wrapped up in our hectic lives. What we see here is real.

I could feel my heart pounding against my rib cage when I heard the girls enter. They lined up to greet us and we greeted them back. They told us their names but there were so many it was hard to remember all of them. I know their beautiful, radiant faces. I will never forget the way their eyes lit up when they saw the food. A simple meal like egg curry and rice could bring so many smiles.

Sister Clara coaxed them to sing a song. After a few minutes of discussing they line up and begin to belt out “Joy to the world” since it is close to Christmas one of the girls explained with a blissful smile. I joined them in singing. They went on to singing a Konkani Carol and a Hindi song. Their voices were clear. The pitch was unfaltering. It was clear they enjoyed singing. A few of the younger ones kept getting distracted by the food, one could hardly blame them for that. The enticing aroma permeated the air, crept through our nostrils and tortured our senses that made the pangs of hunger almost unbearable. Then sister Clara stopped the singing and told the girls to serve. An excited murmur floated to our ears as they clambered, quite orderly, to line up to be served.

We watched them eat enthusiastically, smiles on their faces.We were glad to be a part of this. We sat down at the table with them after serving ourselves. We started getting acquainted with them. They were a little shy and that is understandable. They were not used to having new people around. I daresay I was a little shy too; like I am around new people. The girls rushed through their meal, enjoying every morsel of it. It was a real joy to watch them. After a little small talk and a hurried meal the first batch of girls rushed off to school. Barely did they go did the second batch enter. Still clad in their uniforms they washed their hands and sat down at the table to share a meal with us. The second batch of girls who came in were younger and a little less shy. A few of them spoke very eloquently. We were very impressed. They were fluent in Konkani, Hindi and English.

The little ones finished their meal and disappeared. We chatted with the nuns. Sister Clara was very enthusiastic about us seeing the entire place, so we got an excellent guided tour. We were very impressed at the way the house was maintained. We saw the backyard, the storerooms, the “room beneath the stairs” and we ended up in the girls’ playroom/ study room. The girls were supposed to have been asleep since it was their nap time. They were all wide awake and full of energy. They were busy making tents out of their blankets and bed covers. I walked over to them and asked them what they were up to and they explained to me in impeccable Grammatically correct English that they were making a tent for the dolls.  After looking around the room, I asked them where the dolls were. One of the girls lifted a bed sheet high enough to let me peep in. I saw a Barbie and two small dolls laid neatly on a pale green kerchief that had Noddy and Big Ears all over it. I then stated the obvious and pointed out to the girls that there were just three dolls and so many of them. One of the older girls smiled at me and nodded saying that they share the dolls among themselves. They told me they take it in turns to play with the dolls.

This was followed by a really nice photo-session with the dolls as main models. The girls were fascinated with the camera. They wanted to keep posing for pictures but unfortunately the batteries got drained and we ran out of time. From having planned to stay there for just a couple of hours, we hung around for four hours. We enjoyed every single minute of it so we can’t really complain.

As we headed to the door Sister Clara spoke about the house and how it came into their possession. The house had belonged to an affluent family in the area and that was very evident by the size of the plot, the built up area and the antique furniture that was still there. All the little pieces of history under one roof left me spellbound. I wanted to explore every nook and corner of the over-a-century-old house. Sister Alaine was more interested in how to restore and save the carving, what to do with the panes and how could one replace the shell window panes, what could be done with the termite-damaged window frames. My husband and I were more than happy to help with suggestions.

The nuns invited us to visit as often as we chose with or without food it didn’t matter. I reckon all they seemed like they wanted was someone to listen to them and their stories. We promised them we would go visit them soon. The girls had won our hearts. I for one cannot wait to go back and maybe teach them a little piano and some new songs.

I did learn some very valuable lessons again just watching the little ones.

• The girls may not have a family but they know how to love.
• They take great joy in sharing the little that they have.
• They may not have parents or a proper family or a home to go to but they are real people with real dreams, just like you and me.
• Respect the food that’s put down before you and don’t leave a single grain of rice, someone has worked hard to put the meal down before you and this might be the only thing you eat in a while.
• We should learn to be happy with whatever we have irrespective of whether it’s a little or a lot because someone out there is wishing for a quarter of what we have.
• Things that we take for granted like proper clothes, toys, shoes, food, family, someone out there will be happy with any one of these things.
• If you have a meal put before you, do not waste it because someone out there is wishing for a meal just like this one.
• There are joys and blessings all around us but we are so self-absorbed most of the time that we fail to see it.
• We are unhappy because of the things we don’t have that we ignore the good things staring at us in the face.

On this happy note, I hope these trips shape me and make me a better person. I’m not saying that I’m a bad person but I know I can be far better than I am.

…and then there was Brave One!

Whoever thinks that pigs are not intelligent is sadly mistaken. They might laze about, wallow in mud, destroy crops in the field but they can stand their ground. I must admit I was never particularly fond of pigs until my Cocker Spaniel Nibbles decided to make friends with seven piglets. The seven critters would run at the sight of us with the dogs and slowly they learnt that Nibbles was completely harmless and so they started ignoring her. One of the piglets, who we named “Brave One” would watch her coming at him and he would stand his ground. She would move closer to him and stop a few feet away from him and the two animals would have a 10 minute “staring” competition where neither would bat an eyelid or move a muscle. It was extremely entertaining to watch.

Narnia, our white mixed Pomeranian had her own special encounter with Brave One. One evening she decided to chase Brave One across the fields. Brave One was happily digging up mud close to the path we walk on and Narnia was running along the pathway and suddenly noticed Brave One. Her killer instincts kicked in and she suddenly took it in her head to charge at the piglet; which she did. Brave One bolted across the fields running as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him and there was Narnia running abreast keeping up with the piglet’s speed. They reached a dead end and halted simultaneously. Narnia looks at the pig and the pig looks back at her. Both of them confused and wondering what came next when all of a sudden Brave One charged at a very unsuspecting Narnia and the dog bolted all the way back to us. We were waiting at the far end of the field, watching the animals’ impromptu theatrics.  How we laughed at Narnia’s shocked surprise. Brave One had earned his name.

December 3rd, the Feast of the patron Saint of Goa… high mass was over, it was around 12 in the afternoon. We were roused by a commotion down below our apartment. The pigs sounded like they were in distress and I prepared myself to make a dash to see if I could help them. Instead, I ran to the window and I saw a group of men chasing the piglets all across the field. The pigs dodged them, squealing piteously. I begged my husband to tell the men to leave the little creatures alone. Almost in tears, I watched with bated breath as Brave One dodged the men and finally escaped their clutches but a couple of his siblings were not so lucky. Selfishly, I was happy Brave One was safe. We have all built such a rapport with the animal that we would miss him should something happen to him.

Today was another day like the 3rd. There was a lot of commotion happening. The pigs were squealing loudly. We went to see what was happening. Once again there were six men chasing Brave One. Artfully, he dodged them. They cornered him but he escaped. An Alsatian appeared out of nowhere and bounded after the scared piglet. He managed to nip at the pig but Brave One ran to safety. Shamelessly the men went after him but failed in catching him. I overheard one of the men asking another one “Did you get hurt?” and the man replied “He bit me!” Brave One has left his mark on this planet and on the man’s hand. He won’t be easily forgotten and how many people can actually say that they were bitten by a pig?

After the six men failed miserably in trapping Brave One they caught another pig and went on their way. I was just thankful Brave One is safe for now. I have never seen such a confident and artful pig and I think Brave One deserves to live. I wish I could keep him with me but my dogs would have their own bacon then. I can only hope and pray that his owners know his worth and let him live. Brave One is a unique pig and a real joy to watch.

Life through children’s eyes

I learnt a very valuable lesson yesterday and it is something I will carry with me right through til the end of my life. I am grateful to a close friend of mine (who is also my husband’s best friend) Ronsley for letting me be a part of a wonderful “sharing” experience (Sharing sessions). Now to elaborate a little before I go any further Ronsley owns a Goan restaurant in Brisbane called Goa-Doodle-Do and he came up with a noble idea “Eat for two”, he feeds one hungry child on every full meal that is ordered in his restaurant. (Here is the facebook link https://www.facebook.com/EatFortwo).

I was privileged to have gotten a chance to go along with Ronsley’s parents and three friends to St. John of the Cross Orphanage in Sancoale, Vasco. I was excited and nervous to be there because I had no idea what was in store or how to react.  We got there well in time for the children’s lunch. The nuns’ reception was not exactly what I had expected but the children were wonderful. They had heard we were taking food and were thrilled.

We were enveloped by a tsunami of skepticism because we were told by the nuns there that the children did not like noodles and they would waste the food. Ignoring the anxiety we moved forward. We stepped into what seemed to be a hall where the children were all lined up and greeted us with a volley of  cheerful “Good afternoons” and medleys of songs and nursery rhymes. The children looked like they could have gone on endlessly with a repertoire they seemed to have lined up. They threw in a couple of Konkani and Hindi songs too. Someone eventually got them to stop singing (much to their disappointment and ours) and start reciting the grace before meals. They were then rounded up and led to the dining area and each child went to his or her respective places. Their plates were then laid out in front of them. Their eyes lit up instantly when they saw they had noodles. Without much ado they dived enthusiastically into their food and their plates were wiped clean right down to the very last noodle. The room was silent apart from their slurping and excited giggles as they sucked in their noodles.

I looked around at their happy faces and I saw one little boy had pieces of his egg piled up on one side of his plate. I walked over to him and asked him why he had kept aside the egg adding that it would make him big and strong. He looked up at me and with a gentle smile and admitted that he wanted to share what he had with his friends next to him. I felt like I had just got hit by a truck. Right before my eyes was a six year old child who barely got much food and he wanted to share this one good meal with his comrades. There I was standing before him amazed by the love I had just seen. Really? Six years old? I thought that it was one of the purest, most lovable actions I had ever seen in a long time. An innocent child already knows how to love so deeply and unconditionally. That made me wonder how we lose ourselves in our adulthood and the throes of our mundane daily routines. Have we; as adults, forgotten how to love as purely as this six year old can? What happened to us we journeyed from innocence to adulthood? When did we learn to hate so much that we have completely lost ourselves in negativity in the process of growing up?

We stood by watching the last child finish his meal. Some of the children ran off to play others gathered around me and some gathered around everyone else. One little girl lifted my hand and looked at my finger nails. “Blue!” she exclaimed, with noticeable awe written across her innocent face. I smiled down at her, vaguely embarrassed that bits of nail polish were chipped off on a couple of nails. She called the other girls to inspect my nails. “Blue!” they repeated. “That’s nail polish,” I exclaimed, smiling down at them, my embarrassment a little more evident at this point. “Ooooooooh!” some of the little ones sighed. Suddenly they started kissing my hands. I started to laugh as I thought to myself that this was the closest I would ever get to “15 minutes of fame”.

One of the children walked up to Ronsley’s mother Lafira, looked up at her and asked what else they were getting to eat. The children were then given a banana each and once again the fruit was relished. Once the children were done with the fruits another child asked if there was more. We thought they had not had enough. Lafira gave them two Cadbury’s chocolate eclairs each. Some of the children ate their share almost as soon as it got into their hands while others put the chocolates in their pockets to save it for later. A few of the children walked up to me, tugged at my hand and patted their pockets to let me know that they were saving their goodies for later. The first thing that popped into my head was an image of Charlie in the final scene of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory where he shows Wonka the candy he had been saving.

Finally it was time to bid the children farewell and return to the real world, our hearts lighter and happier. All the way home there was one thing playing and replaying in my mind and that is there’s so much to be thankful for and sometimes we forget what we truly have and we feel like we don’t have enough that we miss out on the real joys. What were the real lessons I had learnt from the children if at all I did learn something?

The children taught me that no matter how little I have I can still share and yet be happy that I have enough for myself after giving.

Love has no age limit or barriers. Love comes in the simplest form.

We can still be happy with the little we have because we do not know what it’s like to not have more than what we have.

There’s happiness to be found in the simplest meal.

Noodles are fun to eat!

Yes, the little children left me with a lot of food for thought that kept me ruminating for the rest of the evening. Am I so lost that I can’t be thankful for what I have? How difficult is it to share selflessly? Am I not capable of loving someone unconditionally without the fear of getting hurt or feeling let down? Can I not be thankful for a simple meal just as long as I have a full stomach?

If you happen to be in Brisbane, please do check out Goa-Doodle-Do and Eat for two. You’ll be helping a hungry child and contributing to a noble cause.