Memoirs of a lost childhood..

MEMOIRS OF A LOST CHILDHOOD

Nhu Mai Hoang was raised among the wet forests, where she could feel friendlier towards reptiles, than towards those white men, whose eyes always strayed, lingered and devoured. This appalled her, no….not appalled. It was more of a gripping fear that seeped into her very bones, more so, because, she was more afraid of her Ba, who eyed her the same way as those army men. He wasn't her real father, he had bought her mother for a few Dongs, after Nhu's real Ba had got lost, probably been devoured by a crocodile, while searching for firewood, in the jungle. Her fear proved true; since she was sold off to a pimp, a few days later, to join the carnal trade as another helpless novice, who had fetched as meager a sum as the price of a couple bottles of Quoc li for her Ba. She resisted, but 'they' did not like rebels, so, she was left in a dark pit full of snakes, which slithered and hissed into her ears, until she could take no more. The isolation, the darkness and the slithering reptiles had taken away her spirit, her will to resist any violation. Nhu died an old lady, who became quite rich, but the void of the 'Lost Childhood' in her eyes was unmistakable. Elsewhere, and at some other time, little Chaim had always dreamt of becoming a doctor. They had been such a happy family…His Ima & Abba had been so indulgent towards him and his sister, Esther, who would always remain a chubby baby in his memory, because, she never got the chance to grow up. Chaim's world came crashing down one day, when Europe went into war. The last time he saw his Abba was when the Gestapo dragged him away, while he was resisting wearing the yellow star branded 'Jude' on his sleeve. Ima and Esther were sent off to some place called 'Auschwitz', while, Chaim worked as a blacksmith's apprentice in the ghetto. He survived the war, but never saw Ima, Abba or Esther again. The war had ended, but the horde of tired people waited an entire lifetime to see their loved ones again, which most never had a chance to. The war had left Chaim a cripple, after his leg got crushed under the anvil. Chaim also, never got to be a doctor. Aisha had always known that she was intelligent, more than any of her brothers or her Abbu. She had learnt all that her elder brother Mushtaq studied at school, as she kept on listening, whenever he read out his texts aloud. It had always been her wish that she should also go to school, for she herself wanted to become a teacher. The problem was that Aisha never came across a girl who went to school, and she had a sense of foreboding, that if she expressed her wish, something terrible might happen to her. She knew about what happened to Afreen for being rebellious, however, one day her immense passion got the better of her fear. She went to her Ammi and broached the subject. She was eleven at the time, and was married off a few days later, to a thirty-one year old man with two wives and five sons. Aisha never went to school. Nearer home, Akash had always yearned for the moment when his Mummy would be home early, and would ask him about how his day at school had been. He wished that she herself would prepare and pack his lunch box. Akash, now that he was eight, longed to have a man-to-man conversation with his Papa, about his love for arts, music, literature, about his home work and his friends. It was not to be, both his parents were busy professionals, who 'had' to socialize and return home late, because of their professional demands. They, however, showered their son with all that an eight year old boy could wish for, however, his Nintendo Play Station no longer interested him. His story-books, expensive play cars, robots, all seemed dull to him. He wanted to show someone that he could paint really well; he wanted to find someone, who would acknowledge his eight year old existence in ways that he had always craved from his parents. One day, when he was twenty-two, he suddenly left with his band of 'Special Bohemian Friends', whom he had known for three years now. They all had too many things common among them, for example, their love for arts, music, carefree living, and of course…..their dope. The afore-mentioned incidents were not merely glimpses into the lives of four children, they echo the large void left behind with the pain of lost innocence, happiness and all things beautiful. These are the pictures of social, financial and emotional penury faced by millions of children across the world. Remember Chhotu, who brings tea to your office, always delivering biscuits and collecting money through the cruel summers, relentless rains and the harsh winters? Or Minu, who incessantly mops floors, baby sits and cleans utensils? Remember Kevin Carter of the 'Bang Bang Club' and his legendary photograph of a nearly dead Sudanese toddler with the vulture looming in the backdrop, patiently waiting for its feast on the tiny carrion? The photo won Carter a Pulitzer in 1994, and gave him instant fame as a portrayer of the raging civil wars, racial discrimination and exploitation of humanity. This fame had its price though; it was the beginning of a downward spiral plunge into the moral abyss of guilt, sorrow and disillusionment, which ended with his death by carbon mono-oxide poisoning, in his red pick-up truck, with a green garden hose taped to the exhaust spewing the deadly gas into the passenger side window. An excerpt from his last note said, "The pain of life overrides the joy to the point that joy does not exist". Such is the magnitude of despair from being mere spectators, contributing the least to humanity, which certainly has its roots in the children. The world has become a place where words like 'Generosity', 'Compassion', 'Benevolence', and 'Fraternity' exist only in dictionaries, where man is in a rat race to become richer, stronger and more powerful. The line of distinction between necessity and luxury has become so blurred, that the world has become a privileged place with too many under-privileged people. What we all need to contribute is thinking a little more responsibly, exerting a bit more effort to appreciate the joy of being born lucky, making a little more conscious effort to redeem our vows of loving, caring and sharing and camaraderie, for all souls in need. Let not more childhoods be robbed of their essence of life, Amen…. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------