Strange morning encounter...

I woke up to the hoarse, intense crying of a small child. It was so loud and painful and close (sounded like it was in the campus) that when I finally became conscious, I went out to the balcony to see who is was. Beyond the low back wall of our campus, through the trees and bushes, and without my glasses (like in ‘My Cousin Vinny’), I saw two small figures struggling. As I watched, one of them kicked the other, who was lying on the ground. It looked really as though some child was beating up another mercilessly. The one on the ground tried to get up and run. The other caught him, and he fell down.

I called out, asking who was there and to stop hitting and fighting. The figures seemed to pause, but then ignored me. I rushed down and ran to the wall.

I found a child of four or five, and another of six or seven. The younger one was crying and sitting in the dust. I asked what was going on and found out that the mother had gone to work and this child wanted to go after her, and his brother was trying to get him to come home.

Ah. So different from what I had imagined.

I looked at the older brother, himself such a small child. He was standing next to his brother looking helpless and tired. Every few minutes he would say to his brother, “Ghar chalo” (come home), or try to pick him up, but his brother would shriek even louder and shake him off. He had been crying for so long and so hard that he was coughing and choking in the middle. One of his knees had gotten slightly scraped, and he would look at it, cry harder, and angrily swat off flies.

I asked their names, tried talking to the younger brother, D. He didn’t respond, but his crying seemed to lesson when I talked to the older brother, G. G said that there was no one else at home. I asked if there was an older neighbour or relative living nearby, and he said, “Sab sukta hai,” (everyone is sleeping). His mother and father were both at work and go every day, but today D was insisting on following his mother.

It was a familiar, every-family situation. But now that I had come down all the way and talked to them, I couldn’t walk out, especially on G, this little responsible boy. Not that I was any help, but he was just a child, feeling that his brother would never stop. Around me, there were other stirrings of activity, but not a glance at these two, or me. Non-interference, such as people never attribute to ‘Indians’, but actually, an important characteristic in many situations, especially personal.

I looked at G, his tight face, and thought that maybe we would be out here for hours. D showed no signs of stopping, and when he did, he would look at his knee and start again. Talking to him had no effect. I imagined writing this, and wondered how it would end – I couldn’t leave, but couldn’t stay forever, and couldn’t figure out how to help quiet a child who didn’t know me and I couldn’t touch (we were separated by a wire fence). I tried gathering all my experience and knowledge about children, but felt like I knew nothing.

Finally, I told D to follow me, and started walking along the fence towards his house. This motivated or interested him enough to at least stand up and not resist his brother, who nudged him towards me. His house was just a few steps away from the end of the fence. When we reached, he started crying harder, perhaps feeling somewhat tricked. I showed him my balcony and told him that I was going up there and he should show me his house so I could see it from the balcony.

On the balcony, I called him and waved at him. He hiccupped and looked at me. I asked G if they could go up on their roof, which is across from my kitchen window. He said yes, and D allowed himself to be led (or pushed) up, sobbing. When I reached the window (I was delayed by a wasp), G was looking around, trying to see if I was still on the balcony. I called out to them and waved, telling D that he could come up and say hi to me every morning. I waved goodbye to G.

There was silence after that, now that they were home, I suppose. I felt ashamed, though, I am not sure completely why. Because G was taking care of D, being just a year or two older, and I presumed to step in. He looks after D every day, apparently, because there is no one else at home.

I will see if they can join our school.