ITS MY KIA

As we entered The Little Sisters of the Poor’s Home for the aged the first thing that came to my mind was,” This place is so beautiful”. It truly was beautiful, from the old stone buildings to the greenery. The old age home’s silent understated beauty hid the pain and sadness it witnessed almost on a regular basis, much like the residents of the old age home itself. Our trip to this home opened my eyes to the kind of pain people suffer, to how cruel people can be, and most importantly to how with a little effort and help we can make the world better for so many people.

On entering the home we were welcomed by one of the benefactors of the home, an old man himself who told us about the home. With 140 residents this home is run purely on charity and with the monthly costs for medicines and staff running into a few lakhs themselves it is truly remarkable as to how the little sisters of the poor have maintained this home for so long. We were first taken to the area near the women’s infirmary and we met about 5 or 6 old women. All of them were very welcoming and talking to them was easy.  We were then given the freedom to move around the building and talk to the residents. We even met a woman who had a passion for dancing and showed us photos of herself. The men’s section of the home wasn’t very different, except that it housed what Mr. Krishnamurthy, a resident for about 13 years, called the Activity Therapy Center. With cute fluffy little chickens made of sponge along with rabbits and a dog and other beautiful creations the therapy was definitely a success especially given how happy and lively the 96 yr old man who made a model of the Home looked. By 12 p.m it was time for lunch and for us to give the residents hampers and sweet buns. Following which we had a small program for them involving a medley of songs. The way their faces lit up when we gave them their hampers was such a warm sight.

What struck us is the simple fact that the old people just needed someone to talk to – simple everyday talks of what they like, what they had for breakfast, what their favorite dish is. Just chatting with them brought such pleasure and joy to them and the value of this is something that even money cannot buy. Two of the people I most fondly remember are Anthonyamma who was excited by the fact that the next day was her birthday and Mr. Punose a man who loved football.  The reasons I remember the two of them isn’t because that they were anticipating their birthday or because of their likes but because of what it meant in the broader sense. Anthonyamma was excited because there would be a joint party as a treat for her birthday and that of three other residents. This portrayed beautifully the efforts of the Little Sisters Of The Poor in taking care of the residents. The reason I remember Mr. Punose is because of his answer to one of my questions. On asking him for how long he had been in the home he replied,” I used to live with my son in Delhi. He was working with British Airways and passed away recently. No one else wanted me and so I came here.” And the fact that he had no one else who cared for him wasn’t unique to only him. It was almost a standard for the residents of the home. This is something which is so very saddening to both the heart and mind. How can a person desert someone who has been there for them for such a large part of their lives defies logic, to me at least, and I know that it is something I cannot do to my parents or my aunt.  The last thing that the Little Sisters Of The Poor taught me without intending to, was that with a little bit of care and concern and some effort we CAN make this world a better place for at least one person if not many.

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Vinay