Friday, 15 May 2009

Miss you my little Kutty boy!

Oh child! How, I would give anything...

To know that it all worked out fine,

To know that you are safe;

To have what you had...

Strength and grace to accept whatever life has to offer;

A raw acceptance of life’s realities;

Giving life your best; and,

waving happily as you passed by this world;

with a smile on your face.

God bless you my little Kutty boy!

May He rest your soul in peace.

I think of you often and it’s with joy that I do.

I see you waving my sweet angel;

With you, I send... my love to all the angels up there;

I miss you Kutty!

Your Di.

*PS - this post is a continuation from my ealier post 'Kutty boy and his 'amma'

Kutty boy and his ‘amma’!

The first time I met little ‘kutty’ was on one of my first weeks at work. I was still getting used to being away from home, staying by myself and most of all dealing with the issue I was working on. The days of my realization, that there was always atleast two sides to any story, was only beginning.

It was at one of the clinics run by my organization, on a very ill famous street, that I met Kutty and his amma for the first time. His eyes stood out from his face, ofcourse they would, for his body was so thin and he was all bones, almost like he was out from a Somalian picture. Only difference being, it wasn’t hunger that brought him to this state but 'hiv'.

My heart had almost stoped beating and what went through my mind the first few seconds, was absolute shock and numbness at the situation. Kutty was only 10 years old, but with the maturity of a boy of 20. I remember, the first time he held my hand and we walked down the street to find a taxi, that’s something I could never forget, his his little bonny fingers wrapped around my hand. Kutty was admitted to a public hospital, after much difficulty. The hospital ofcourse had seen many such cases ... the so called cases without hope. Being a renowned government hospital in the heart of the city, the staff had a huge task managing the overflow of patients from all over the country. So no complaints. Only that on the priorities scale, Kutty was way down on the list. 

Trying to convince the doctors to fight a losing battle, and let an entity, who had no hope of surviving use up the meagre resources was only the beginning of the many task to come. The problem with being 'hiv' infected is that the terminality of the illness itself takes a backseat and the social relevance takes precedence. One can almost hear all the ongoing murmurs/ thoughts , all the  ‘hmmnnn!.. aaahhh!.... awarghhh!.... oh my god!... oh its them!.... oh, they deserve it!..... oh, these people!’ Kutty was an exception.

With no other family, nobody else to support and almost a zero income, his amma struggled to keep things going and a never dying conviction, that things would get better. Kutty was almost in the last stages, but both his amma and me never realized it, as in, it never really registered. Acutally, he never let us think about it or dwell on the topic. He must have been the skinniest boy I had ever seen (btw kutty only weighed 20 kgs when I met him). His eyes held life and a child. I guess he realised he had a terminal disease, but that didn’t seem to bog down this little carefree body. Kutty’s only concern was his amma. Kutty worried about who would take care of his amma, when he wasn't around. She spend every waking moment by him. Very religiously sitting by her son day and night, keeping herself going, with the morsels the hospital provided, to its patients. I never saw her cry, but her eyes held deep pain and hope, which, to me was unfathomable.

Being with this family at such a point was never about  being involved in overtly emotionally dramatic family scene. Since, that is what one would expect after being bombarded with the soaps and movies in general, about how life was so unfair or why god had choosen them...etc. Those kind of thoughts never came , not once, when I was with them. Not even when the final good byes were being said. Infact it was me who kept asking those questions to my god, each night I lay down, trying very hard to understand his mercy, his judgement, his decision....

Kutty, ofcourse for all his maturity was still a kid at heart,When I was told  by the resident doctor, that Kutty didn’t have much time left, I couldn’t face him. With tears rolling down my cheeks, trying very hard to hide it, finding my voice to speak to Kutty..... I somehow, only managed to tell him that he would fine... Now, that is the sort of situation that changes you in ways that is unimaginable. He knew what was coming and all three of us preferred to let it remain unsaid.

Kutty’s mind on the otherhand was trying to find ways to wrap things up for all the people he was leaving behind, his amma and me (I had know him for only 4 weeks, a little more than 30 days). He said ‘Di, would you please make sure amma is OK’ 'Yep!'. I said. ‘ Hmmnnn... Di!’ ‘Yes Kutty!’ I said . 'Ooh Di, may I please have a vada pav and a cold drink’. We had a good laugh, this little child and us. He had lightened up the place with his wicked smile and love and we kept passersby guessing our reasons to party. I hugged Kutty and left. That was the last I saw Kutty, happy and smiling.

Miss you my little kutty boy!

*PS - Few verses for Kutty on my next post 'Miss you my little kutty boy!'