God’s Favourite Child

February 3, 2009 at 18:23 (Life)

I am not the best of persons to write this. I am not old enough to have the vast repertoire of experience to say anything that would seem sensible to you. I am neither the purest nor the sanest. I have got the least eligibility to write about anything that is even remotely related to Him. However, in these 23 years I have found something really peculiar – the weird way in which He handles just everything.

He places the heaviest burden on those whose shoulders can carry its weight. He blocks the road of those who find a detour and haven’t learned to wait. He gives the deepest wounds to those who know how to heal. Yet, He hits the legs of those who haven’t learned to kneel.

So, when life starts hurting, just don’t go crazy & wild,

Cos, my dear friend, God luvs to test his favourite child.

My grandparents were rag-pickers and so were my parents. They could not afford even the cheapest of medical facilities. Ma gave away her life to give me mine. Yes, I lost her the day I was born. I have never seen her face. But I know she was beautiful. She had a beauty spot just below her right eye and she flashed a dimple as she smiled. My father also says she used to use a lot of kaajal. I guess her eyes must be looking great too. He says I have her nose.

My father used to love me a lot. He never took me to work. He didn’t want me to be a rag-picker; anything but not a rag-picker. I was just 7. I lost him too. People say he committed suicide out of frustration. But I know he was strong enough to do anything that crazy. He was lying senseless (out of heat and exhaustion) when a local train ran over him.

My aunt took care of me after that. Respecting my father, I decided not to pick rags. I started sweeping local trains. I remember how crazy I was about those colorful wrappers, the empty packets of chips and biscuits. I used to carry the most colourful ones back to home. I used to melt them thinking I can get those colours. How foolish I was! They all melted down to the colour of life-black.

Soon, I had enough to purchase a brush and those greasy stuffs to polish shoes. I was earning enough to feed myself. I got myself a shirt too. Actually, I found it lying at a garbage dump. Only its pocket was missing. I guess, the owner used to earn a lot and that’s why the shirt was useless for him without a pocket. First 2 days I didn’t take it off at all. But after that I decided to use it only when it was freezing cold. Cos I found it suffocating otherwise. I was growing too. I was no more the teeny-weeny one. And I was now old enough to pay half of what I earned to the Gulla-bhai. And I had to.

At 18, I was earning enough to feed myself and Gulla-bhai’s gluttons. I was happy. I thought at least my son will see his mother, maybe for a day, but he will and I was happy.

I started selling key-rings and pens in buses. I sold newspapers for a few months too. Then I started selling chai and the biscuits and chips – mostly the ones with colourful packing. I was earning more than ever.

I reached 20. A customer who took tea forgot to put back his wallet in his pocket. He left it on his seat and I saw it lying when he was just about to get down from the bus. When I was about to hand it over, I was caught by a constable on charges of pick-pocketing and was beaten black and blues. I got a fracture in my right hand and I am still unable to walk properly. They had pushed me from the bus while it was moving. I lost one eye too as I was hit by a speeding bike. The nurses here say I have got a large clot in my head. And it was just a matter of few weeks before the pain goes. After all, a dead man knows no pain.

As I lay on a bed in this local hospital until my pains ‘disappear’, I remember someone saying, “God tests his best creation cos He knows his masterpiece can withstand all adversity.”

That makes me wonder -

“Am I His masterpiece?”

“Am I His best creation?”

“Am I God’s favourite child?”