Hug

This evening many people have been asking me how my day was. Perhaps they do this everyday and it is so routine that I just give an automatic reply. But today, the question seemed to stick to me, sinking further into the journey of my memory and raising one stubborn image which was partly a figment of imagination and partly a recent reality.

This morning I arrived at the orphanage and began to find Deepa some shoes and a woolly hat. She was immediately reactive and and began to stroke my wrists to confirm my identify, before playing with the toys of my watch strap and retired hair-bands. The shoes today were imposters into the 'everyday' cupboard, and belonged to the 'special occasion' cupboard. The special occasion cupboard contains all the shiny white trainers and polished leather shoes, as well a pair of white Clarks shoes, with a buckle Deepa likes to flick and a little pink flower which she carefully traces with her fingers. Deciding that everyday should be a special occasion, and that shoes were made to be worn, Deepa balanced her hands on my head while I bent down to tap each of her feet to let her know which to pick up so that she could be fitted out with the white flowered special shoes. They fitted perfectly.

As we maneuvered our way out of the orphanage I was distracted a million times; leaving Deepa standing, outstretched arms searching. Firstly the girl with the most beautiful smile in the world was signing for her recorder, which thankfully I had remembered. She received it was arms outstretched as she stood strapped to the wall. Then after I gave it to her little bow peep with her head of curly hair, grabbed it out of her hands, and stepped back out of the girl with the most beautiful smile in the world's reach. I went to retrive the recorder and in my sternest voice possible (which isn't very stern, especially when facing a extra cute and smiley little bow peep) in order to safeguard the girl with the most beautiful smile in the world's morning entertainment. My reprimand was to backfire as I glanced back to see the girl with the most beautiful smile in the world taking her revenge by battering little bow peep with her musical weapon.

Once out of the room and on the stairs the water nymph who is always tied to the chair had miraculously escaped. The massis say the little girl is 'pugli' as they motion to their heads....'pugli' means 'mad', and as a result she spends her days and nights tied to either a high chair or the bars of her cot. The real reason is that the water nymph has a fascination with water, and whenever she can she will run to the nearest tap and pour water over her entire body. The massis will find her dripping from head to toe, and as a result she is 'controlled' in the prison of her high chair. With an escaped convict (even if it is one unfairly judged and receiving disproportion punishment) in my midst I again had to abandon Deepa pleading with her to hold onto the bannister while I caught the little girl and deposited her back in the orphanage (although no where near her prison chair).

When I return to Deepa she was angry. She pushed me away and then searched for my hands and pulled me back to her. Then she began to cry, in fact she began to scream. Nothing I could say, sing or clap was able to calm her down. She found the wall and pushed her body against it, again and again, refusing to walk with me. The frustration inside of her and her anger was bursting out – uncontrollable and all consuming. Tears poured out of her closed eyelids, leaving their glistening trails behind them as evidence of Deepa's rising emotions. Frustrated at what? At not knowing what is happening around her? Of beginning the routine of going to the park but being left without a word searching the darkness for guidance? Frustrated at not being able to do what she wants when she wants? Or perhaps the nappy she shouldn't be wearing was too tight; the shoes uncomfortable; perhaps she was hungry, tired, thirsty, feeling unwell...whatever the reason, the result was clear. Deepa was ANGRY and would scream and kick about it for as long as it took. Aware of the danger her screams would activate from curious massis and Sisters, I did something I rarely do and that was to pick Deepa up so that I could quickly carry her down the stairs and into the park.

I bent down to pick her up, and held her close to me in case she began to fight. Immediately she stopped screaming. Pure Silence. Shocked at her response, I held her tightly as she placed her head on my chest and allowed me to carry her down the stone stairs. Hoping that no-one would see me (as carrying the children is forbidden) I watched as the anger inside Deepa evaporated, replaced with a calm peacefullness.

Entering the park I went directly to the swing and sat with her as my legs dragged along the ground in one direction and hers sat in the sky in the other. She moved her head closer to the centre of my chest – perhaps listening to my heart beat like she used to do last year, but I sat with my arms around her, feeling incredibly privileged to have her trust while aware of the calming and soothing effect our friendship was having – on us both.

When I think back about my day today; I think of the hug which I witnessed from above, and which I felt with all of my body. When I think about my day today, I realise that Deepa feels safe with me and I feel a fear of betraying her.