A Suckling Child

A Suckling Child
P K Routray

For two years towards end of my service career,
I was posted in a plant to a tribal area it was very near.
A hilly forest with practically no logistic,
no electricity, no hospital, lack of schooling facility,
People there though are below poverty lines as per us the experts,
but they lived with joy from generations on their own local social efforts.
Now as they have seen the living style of us the civilized mass,
the aspirations and frustrations have touched and started torturing this class.
But perhaps they have accepted it as it was too much and beyond their reach.
But to us their livings was pathetic with no cloth to cover the body and no body to teach.
As per our ingenious analysis their condition was pathetic,
Considering us within them and in their role, the life in all respect was too unhygienic.
Hence we decided to visit them on all Sundays,
to distribute clothes, medicines and help them in our ways.
We were covering areas with certain frequency,
they started expecting us and perhaps enjoyed and accepted our lunacy.
With this preamble I interrupt to proceed to my most pleasant experiences,
Two incidents during such visits by the author are for you here in the following verses.
We also distributed chocolates among the children,
to develop their cordiality and to motivate then for good deeds and to them not to remain alien.
On our second visit after six months to a certain village,
With sound and stoppage of our vehicles all the children rushed to us with joy and courage.
A child around three years old was suckling he mother’s breast,
She in a hurry left her mother and rushed to us as if we had for her, life’s best.
Except cloth, banana or chocolate w had nothing to offer,
Her love and expectation both for the moment and beyond to me does still bother.
Can I not do anything for her something more?
I am in an introspective dilemma searching for a service better.
We used to distribute frocks and knickers to the naked children,
Their joy and pride after putting on the dresses for us were worth millions.
On one such occasion, to return back in a hurry, a three year child was asked “ A knickers whether did you get?’
Incapable of speaking owing to her age she lifted her frock to show “yes she has got” with a smile of conquest.
The scene of little emaciated naked girl and her smile of contentment and satisfaction,
remains vibrant within me with tears rolling for reason unknown.
Is it the pleasure of my pride of good action?
or change of place in next life can be my harrowing apprehension.
Is there any relationship between real need and contentment?
Or whether our so called humanitarian service has got His consent?
Leaving many such questions to muse to the readers on their choices,
I still feel the pleasure of pride on those two experiences.
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