The Love of a Toilet Brush

I have just left the orphanage. I left Gita sitting on a potty in the toilet room. I left Gita sitting in the toilet room while a Mashi smacked the crying toddlers with a toilet brush. I am so angry that I slam the door shut, and then I write. This is how I take my frustrations out – not on mentally and physically disabled children, no matter how 'naughty' they are. Yes cultures are different, and yes there are many alternative 'techniques' to install discipline in young children, but bullying should not be one of them.

I have no doubt of the good intentions of most of the Sisters. I have no doubt of the Love of Mother Teresa for the millions of children which her homes have saved. I know the children in Shishu Bhavan are the 'lucky' ones. They could be living in the slums, hungry and abandoned. They could have been left to die. I know they have plenty of food to feed their bellies, and a warm bed to sleep in. I know they are clean and fed their daily dose of vitamins and unlike their destitute counterparts, I know they have cupboards full of clothes and toys. I know they have the attention of thousands of well meaning volunteers who pass through the nursery's doors every year. But I have a great deal of doubt over the depth of this 'luck'. Potentials are not being fulfilled. Love is no longer the prime motivation.