Are you a nice person? Do you feel like you are kind-hearted?
I thought I was until I met this family.
Here is how this tale goes.
I recently went to do a baseline survey in Dolkha. It was a
six-day trip to go to various rural localities, households and schools to find
out the status of education for Dalit girls and disabled children. The trip was
sort of an eye opener for me, a roller coaster ride of my emotions, but one that
I will cherish. The landscapes, the people and the moments with them were the
purest I have felt in a very long time.
I could talk about the whole trip and I would be writing a
book, but that is for some other time.
Recently finishing my exams, extremely tired and needing a
long break and time to myself, I went there oblivious to the change in my life
and thinking that it would bring to me. A lot of things happened throughout the
trip that has made me question my morals, my upbringing and my sanity. But I am
talking about this single thing that brought about the biggest wave in the calm
ocean of my mind.
A friend and I had to go and interview some families with
disabled children in this remote area called Bhusapheda. We were there for 3
days and the first two days went well with regards to our survey. The final day
is what I am talking about in this piece.
We walked hours on the beautiful village path, with beautiful
hills, trees, farmlands and small streams. The plan was simple, find out the
house of this family, take the interview with the disabled child and her
parents and be on our way. We asked the locals of the location of the house
whenever we found someone who were happy to help and finally reached the house
we were supposed to reach.
The so called house was at the side of the path. Well, it
was just a temporary shelter made up of metal and plastic sheets wrapped around
bamboo scaffold. Directly in front of this shelter were two ditches and we had
to cross those to get to the shelter. There
was also construction of a house going on nearby.
We were greeted by the family. We gave them our introduction
and told them the purpose of the visit and they invited us in to the shelter.
The inside view of the shelter was sadder than the outside view. I am not even
going to try to describe it.
We asked our questions and had a long talk with the family.
The family had three children. One of the daughter had lost the function of her
left hand. She lost it in a freak accident while a toddler. She had rolled into
the wood fired stove and brunt herself. The girl was very pretty, a little shy
but very friendly. We talked about her school and her studies and turns out,
she enjoys studying very much.
There were two other children in the family. The
father talked about how one had fractured his hand recently and had been recovering
ever since.
The conversation did dwell into topics we didn’t have to
talk about. We found out that, the family’s house was destroyed during the
earthquake and they had been living in that makeshift shelter for the last
couple of years. The house that was being built was for them. It was difficult
as the father didn’t have a steady income and they were in debt. But it was
supposed to be done because how long could they live in temporary shelter. The
father also complained that he didn’t know any information on facilities to disabled
child because he couldn’t afford a radio to listen to the news and programs. It
could be seen in the faces of the parents how much they loved their children as
they unanimously said they wanted their children to study as much as they
wanted but I could feel in the sound of their voice the sadness of being poor.
Oh! This talk shattered my voice and my eyes water. At one
point, I didn’t know how to ask any more questions. For the first time in my
life I felt sad for being poor myself. I wanted to do something but I didn’t
know what and how. For the first time in my life I felt helpless, hopeless.
I was contemplating their life and mine. I had everything I wanted
compared to this family. The problems I had was microscopic compared to the problems
they faced. Yet, I felt powerless to do anything.
Then, the family offered us a glass of Mountain dew each. We
declined but they insisted and we took half a glass. That made me realize I am
not the nice guy I claim to be. I am not the kind-hearted person that everyone
credits me for. The family with no
income and more problems were generous enough to provide us with a drink. They didn’t
have to. They didn’t need to. They couldn’t afford to. But they still did.
This was the time in my life, I really thought of everyone
and everything except for me. I was put in a greatest debt and all I could do
was slowly sip the hardest drink to swallow…
