Little Wise Babu

Little babu has the face of an old man. He looks wise. He totters around – the youngest little tot. Two years in this world. Yet he knows the score. He is as wise as he looks. He searches for Aunty. He slowly approaches her office and pokes his head around the bottom of the door frame. His eyes find her body laying on the floor. She is sleeping and he is wide awake – safe on his mission. Little babu bends down towards the floor, hands out stretched he lets his weight topple him forwards. His palms save his head and he is now in a position to crawl. Little babu crawls under the desk and his little fingers find what he is looking for. He presses the switch, looks around and then retreats. He pushes himself up and continues turning off the power. Little Conservationist. He recognises me – but I am only a familiar face. He waits for my reaction. I smile and he smiles back. He is safe. He is mischievous. He decides to put some distance between us. He totters between the racing children. Zooooom they whiz around him.

Another pair of eyes reach his line of sight. Another babu. Like a magnetic connection they are pulled together. Tottering they join forces in this whirlwind of energy. United they manoeuvre like two little unsteady robots, negotiating their way between the racing legs and the unseeing teachers. Focusing on a destination and tottering their way there– hands united. Their tininess makes them invisible as I watch them become babies again to those who see them. Little wise babu reaches for a steel cup of cold water. He wraps his little hands around it and drinks. He is collected by an older child, passively lifted and then deposited. His head turns slowly around to find his abandoned friend and once connected his body joins his eyes. They move further away from the noise and they stand together in the courtyard – watching. They look like two wise old men – watching over the youngsters, discussing the past and the future. Then something catches his attention. Little babu wanders over to the edge of the courtyard, holds onto the red bars and peers down. Quack Quack! It is the muddy family of muddy ducks. He watches the little ducks patter about obdientently following the mother duck. Quack Quack! He is silent - staring - and then lifts his head and see me - staring - out of my open barred window. He turns around. Tottering.

Little babu begins to scream. He was tripped up by a passing whirlwind and has fallen over on the concrete. His little friends is distressed and trying to help. A little pineapple girl hears the calls and her six years mother the Little babu. She picks him up and takes him by the hand. As always she is smiling as she leads the little babu with the wise old face to someone who will soothe his tears. His lip is cut and is bleeding, but all he really needs is reassurance that soon one day the world will stop pushing him over and he will be able to stand his ground. Little squeaky pineapple girl finds An Adult. The day is saved. She returns to the role of child in this space where children can just be. Little babu is quickly quietened. He is curious again. Searching around him, looking in control and ready to move on. Little wise babu. Two years in this world. Born into this beautiful world with blood that keeps trying to kill you.