“What can I get you ?”
I asked the boy. He was maybe 7, maybe 15, hard to tell from where I was, and we had just met at the Centre.
He would not speak but looked at me with eyes scared to ask, or come near. After half an hour of playing with wool and paints in the Art Room, we both took off our glasses for an eye break.
Karan ( the kid) was wearing – 20 myopic glasses, to my -3. We joked about our spectacles sitting next to each other. He still had that shy look and I was now beyond able to control my words. “ Tell me Karu, if I can give it to you, I will…”
(This is a kid that never knew mom or dad or anyone besides the nice people that took him in at Jyoti Seva school for the blind, where my own son is a day scholar). Karan and I stared at each other, now in defiance. He had to break his silence, I had to tame my curiousity.His words were in a mixture of mumble, Kannada and English. It took me a long time to get over them.
All he wanted, was a hug.
He could’ve asked me for almost anything there, but all he wanted was a hug.Yes I hugged him as I would my son, carefully and carelessly – he wouldn’t pull away. I’ve never recovered from the way humans need touch.
- Ode to the Hug (seeingmiracles.wordpress.com)