Hour Out

Once a month the some of the children from Shishu Bhavan have the opportunity to go to an evening Children's Mass at the Mother House. I figured that any opportunity for the children to leave the room must be justifiable. All the children from the 'active' section were to attend along with a select 'active' if assisted 'inactive' children. The children were dressed in their matching outfits, hair/ lice tied back and shoes fitted. I was in charge of carrying one of the two Princesses who was given a green fridge magnet in the shape of a letter G as backup entertainment. I carried her downstairs which was an adventure in itself as she usually just totters around the room. We paused outside the perfect babies so Princess Josephine could give a wave of solidarity. One American volunteer asked if we were going in a bus. I responded with a laugh - after all the Mother House was not even a five minute walk from Sishu Bhavan and all of the children could walk unaided apart from a handful who just required some extra patience and assistance. It was only a short walk – but enough to feel the street and to see other people walk by, and the buses and cars and maybe even a crow or a wandering cow. Within seconds a big Missionaries of Charities van reversed and the children were piled in.

There was an exception. A small princess who was so silent that it was not noticed that she was sitting in my arms. I felt privileged to show her the world from on the street rather than from above it. She sat on my arm as if it were a little throne and rotated her head this way and that – an outside table full of cooked potatoes and a small naked baby, chickens hanging upside from from a bicycle which wheels by as a taxi slows to a stop. A pitter patter of bare feet preempted the running rickshaw man. Lull lull goes his warning bell to clear the road for his VIPs. A bunch of spick and span white shiny school uniforms; faces munching down on tiffin. So noisy, so smelly – no matter how many lives can be piled into one room there will always be so much more life on this street.

We arrive at the Mother House and walk into the room which extends out around the Mother Teresa's tomb. I always think it is a very large tomb for such a small lady but as time seems to be turning her into a Saint perhaps not. The children are all arranged in front of the alter. Cross legged and seated on the floor. Apart from Lipstick Girl who manages to procure a chair and the Sisters who are kneeling in a appropriately subservient and Christian way. Princess Josephine is still silent, that is of course apart from the rotation of her head which won't stop swiveling around. The room fills up – with people standing along the walls and in the doorway.

Something started in regards to the service, perhaps a prayer or a hymn, I am not sure but I know that from then on I really began to see the masked intelligence of an eleven year old girl from Shisa Bhavan. The Girl With the Most Beautiful Smile in the World was sitting on the floor – unattended but Watching and Enjoying. And then everyone around her stood up. She was left on the floor – flapping her arms and tilting her neck back -so desperately wanting to be part of the standing congregation. I quickly deposited the Princess with eagerly awaiting arms and went to The Girl With the Most Beautiful Smile in the World. Now The Girl With the Most Beautiful Smile in the World wears calipus – these are material and metal straps wound tightly around her legs and which lead down to her surgically adapted shoes. Ultimately it is really quite hard to push her from sitting to standing – especially if she is perched on top of you. So I levered her up and down and up again throughout the Service – each time become increasingly paranoid that I was somehow offending the congregation by my disruption to the proceedings and at the same time becoming increasingly frustrated at the lack of Christian help. It appeared that eyes were the only proactive part of the watching bodies. Eventually I managed to work out a system whereby I wedged her between me and the Mother's Tomb and used it to help me lift her up. I figured the use of the tomb was not disrespectful but perfect opportunity for the extra small dead Mother in the extra large box to help us both out.

The Girl With the Most Beautiful Smile in the World seemed to agree and took her new position in the center of the room as an opportunity to flash one of her most beautiful smiles in the world at all the new faces who were drawn to her. I watched as the New Faces would either pretend they hadn't seen or awkwardly grin back . As the Service went on The Girl With the Most Beautiful Smile in the World became increasingly desperate to make the most of her time outside of The Room. She began to fling her arms around, hitting whatever and whoever was between them. The 'Receiver' would initially look horrified but then their eyes would lead them to the most beautiful smile in the world and their mouth could not help but try to imitate. The greatest challenge however was when Communion was offered. I rapidly began to understand why one of the Sisters had been madly motioning to me – we were seated in the popular path right next to the Mother's Tomb, between the congregation and the alter. This meant that as I tried to nudge The Girl With the Most Beautiful Smile in the World away from the traffic she was positioned with the prime opportunity to show her Love to all the strangers in the room and her excitement in able to touch them – Whack Whack Whack – as I tried to support her standing body weight while at the same time controlling her arms.

Then it was our turn to join the line. We climbed our way over – one locked leg at a time, arms swinging and mouth grinning and eventually arrived in front of the Priest. The Girl With the Most Beautiful Smile in the World pulled her hands together and in a combined Prayer/Nameste and then placed a large drooling kiss on the large silver cross held in front before bowing her head to touch it. I was so shocked and amazed and disappointed at myself for not really seeing what level of understanding my silent swinging eleven year old friend had. I knew she loved babies as she always tried to Hug them from the confines of her wooden cushioned chair in The Room, and during the Mass she showed me that she loves strangers. However, that she is really aware of her surroundings and can follow and remember instructions was something of a revelation to me. We turned around and I asked her if she enjoyed the mass? She moved her arms to bring her hands sort of together and the Most Beautiful Smile in the World was certainly there. Then I had to deposit her back in the bus to be shipped back to The Room. At this point we briefly thought that Monkey Boy had gone on one of his adventures and had been swallowed up in the massive Mother House. Un/fortunately for Monkey Bot in reality he had just been walked back to Sishu Bhavan by a brave volunteer.

The Girl With the Most Beautiful Smile in the World had a medical assessment yesterday. One of the recommendation for her Care Givers was to “make her stop swinging her arms around when becoming excited.” I wondered how else The Girl With the Most Beautiful Smile in the World - trapped inside a body which cannot talk or coordinate - was going to be able to show her emotions? Can her Smile become any more Beautiful?