TARA AND TIGGER Part 2

Darn. A dog. I dread and dislike dogs. I feel desperate, daunted and want to disappear.

I am doing it again. I have to stop.

Fortunately no one notices my Phobia for that little troublemaker who is currently running in circles around the sofa for no apparent reason. I take a deep breath and pray.

Dinner is amazing. I love food and Meghna turned out to be an awesome cook. Dinner and conversation, a lovely combination. I had begun to love their company and Tara seemed to love a good intelligent conversation.

We sat in the hall for dessert. Tara left for her room. A fast moving Whirlwind ran behind her. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Aakaash and Meghna sat opposite me.

"So what happened next" I asked.

This time Aakaash spoke. "The first step that we had to take was to get Tara accustomed to her surroundings and get familiar with people. We introduced ourselves every time we picked her up. Physical contact is really important. I would hug her, hold her tight, walk with her facing forwards, lie down next to her, put my fingers in hers so she learns to grasp, and when she did gain the confidence and trust in me, she took her first step holding my hand. I then took her around the room and helped her feel the furniture, the carpet, the door and other things. Most importantly telling her what each and everything was. It was a long drawn process and needed a lot of patience. Slowly but surely Tara learned. And the more she learned the more curious she got. She was a fast learner and we had to think up of new things to teach her."

"The one thing we had to avoid was to say things like "don't you see it" or "its right before your eyes" or any reference to vision. Then we thought of food. Eating was something we do regularly and many times a day. why not make it a learning experience? Touch, hear, smell and taste."

"From then on I held Tara in the kitchen as Meghna cooked. Explained each sound. The cooker. The mixie. The sound of milk being poured. Her bottle being washed. The sound of biting the food. Chewing. Cutting. Some days were frustrating. Tara just refused to be cooperative. But our patience bore fruit. Years passed. Tara was able to identity what was cooking just by the smell. She sat at the table in her high chair and ate on her own. The table was always arranged the exact same way every single day. spoon on the right, bowl in the center, cup on the left, milk on her right, juice bottle in front. So she would never go wrong."

"She learned textures and flavors. Cornflakes were crunchy. Milk a liquid. Chocolate was sweet. Sugar was also sweet but she could hear it when she bit it. Biscuits crumbled. Mashed potatoes were soft. Rice was grainy. chilli was hot. We were amazed at how she analyzed each and everything that was around her and how much she concentrated on what we said."

"She had started going to a special school..a beginners school. But that was only for two hours, it was just like play school. Meghna had to stay with her till she started to trust the teacher. She enjoyed the company of the other kids. She learned about the environment. The car she traveled in. The sun that she hated. Its ironic that we live in chennai." Aakaash grinned.

"But she learned to associate things with sound, texture, taste and feel. What we would normally do with with our sight."

"But this was just not enough. We had to go further. She was still dependent upon us to move and was scared of playing with moving toys. So we took the biggest step in Tara's life."

Meghna smiled and said, "And it was the best step. We were pushing it a bit, but then the results were phenomenal."

"Kavya, you want more dessert?" asked Meghna.

"Are you kidding? dont stop now...do tell me what you did?" I said.

"It is getting late and you should get to bed. Maybe we can continue tomorrow. You look tired. I dont think we should keep you up any longer." said Meghna.

What a time for her motherly instincts to kick in!! But I had to agree I was tired and sleepy from all the food Meghna had stuffed into me. What's with food and mothers? They stuff everyone else but dont seem to eat anything.

As I was shown to my room. I put on my pleading look and asked Meghna to please please tell me what it was, otherwise I was not going to get my much needed sleep.

She laughed and said, "We brought home Tigger, a fawn coloured labrador puppy."

                                                              Image courtesy

"Now sleep in peace, good night"

Darn. That dog again. I am drained. I will dream of devilish deadly dogs. I drowned my disappointment in one more helping of delicious dessert.

Stop. stop. I told myself. Again. you are doing it again.

To be continued....

I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 8th - 14th December 2013. Today's prompt is food.

References:

http://www.blindchildren.org/infoabout/

https://secure2.convio.net/psb/site/SPageServer?pagename=Webcasts_MealtimeSkills_SueShannon

http://www.rnib.org.uk/livingwithsightloss/copingwithsightloss/parentsplace/parenting /pages/parentsliving.aspx

http://www.perkins.org/resources/scout/early-childhood/daily-living-skills.html

TARA AND TIGGER Part 1

"An extraordinary student.  I am extremely proud to have been associated with her." said the principal. "Proud to present Tara Aakaash, Best outgoing student, Academic year 2012-13."

The auditorium burst into a thunderous applause as Tara stepped on stage.  The entire audience was on their feet as Tara received her Award and her Masters degree in Psychology.

I stood beside Meghna and Aakaash, Tara's parents. I did not see Tara. I did not see the reaction of the audience or the people on the dais. All I saw was these two people, who stood with tears of pride, love and happiness as their years of commitment, hard work and sacrifice finally was rewarded with this wonderful moment.

I am Kavya. A journalist. I flew down to Chennai to write a story on Tara. Four days ago. 

It was a nice evening, a Thursday to be exact, as I landed on their doorstep. I rang the doorbell and looked around. A lovely home, an independent house (tough to own and maintain one these days..i thought), a small garden with an enchanting variety of flowers that smelled like heaven (good smells in chennai!! that's inviting), a sand box and a swing.

In front of the house was a lovely 'kolam'. The door was opened by Meghna, clad in a simple cotton saree, kumkum on her forehead, jasmine flowers in her hair and a radiant smile. One cant help but like her. I introduce myself, remove my sandals and step into the house.

She asks me to make myself comfortable. I sit down on the sofa, get out my laptop and recorder. A simple house, simply decorated, practical furniture...hmmm not too much clutter. In the puja room the lamp is lit, from the soft fumes of the incense sticks emanates the smell of sandalwood and the house resonates the soft chants of the Gayathri Mantra that is playing. The walls are adorned with pictures of Tara as a child, at school, and many many more. The kitchen is adjacent to the hall cum dining room. An open kitchen, I see a radio at the corner of the service area. Beautiful bamboo wind chimes hang just outside the open french windows that over look the garden. The hall has a large shelf filled with books and Music Cds. I was surprised at how old the model of the TV was. The house looked welcoming and was as if it was set up to stimulate all our senses...except...

Meghna walks in with a hot cup of filter coffee. "I hope you like coffee", she says. A ridiculous question to ask a journalist and a workaholic. I grin and thank her.

"Thank you for agreeing to share Tara's story with us." I said. "We can just start of with a few details today and then continue tomorrow if you are not comfortable. Its totally your choice. By the way, where is everyone else?" I asked.

"They have gone out for their walk as usual."she smiled. "But we can start. I will tell you what I can. Do ask me what you want to know."

"Lets start at the very beginning. When Tara was born." I said.

"The day Tara was born was and is the most beautiful memory in my life. August 25th 1991. I was in labor for more than 14 hours. Aakaash refused to leave my side and had to literally be kicked out of the delivery room." she chuckled at the memory. "It was an uneventful pregnancy with no complications or incidents. It was late in the evening when she was born, a normal delivery. Aakaash sat by my side cuddling the baby girl who was sleeping contentedly in his arms. He was esctatic. He wanted a girl you see. His parents and mine sat in the room calling every person in their phone contacts list."

"It was a beautiful night. Clear skies. One could see all the stars in the sky."

"Tara" Aakaash said. "I am going to call her Tara"

"Everything seemed just right. Perfect in fact."

"In the next few months we faced what we never even dreamed of. Tara would not stop crying. She wailed and wailed if anyone picked her up. She hated it when we brought her into the light. The only time she was not crying was when she was feeding or when she was sleeping. Six months passed. She gained weight. She was calm every time Aakaash or I held her. She just refused to be carried by anyone she did not know. She did not try to roll over. Did not like toys. Rattles and any toys that made noise or even soft music scared her to no end. She just screamed and screamed. It was horrifying for us. She did not make eye contact. And hated it when we left her alone in her crib."

"The Pediatrition finally told us to take Tara to an Ophtalmologist. It was puzzling to us but we complied. He told us to take a  electroretinography (ERG) after a preliminary exam of Tara. It was to be done under mild sedation. We sat there in the waiting room, hoping against all odds that nothing is wrong with her. We were told that Tara had what is known as Leber’s Congenital Amaurosis.  It is an inherited retinal degenerative disease characterised by severe loss of vision at birth. It seemed that our perfect world just crashed around us. We sat in shocked silence and as the doctor explained to us about the condition. Evidently it was a very rare genetic condition that had no treatment yet."

"We cried for what seemed like days. Our parents were being very supportive but nothing helped. My only concern was that 

little bundle sleeping in my arms totally oblivious of what she has to face as she grew up."

Meghna wiped a tear and said, "Its been more than 20 years, that day is etched in my memory as the worst day in our lives. Everything changed. After a week of crying and discussing and crying and fighting and more crying, Aakaash and I decided enough was enough. We had to figure this out. We were making a choice, not to sit and watch our baby fight, but to fight with her. If possible fight for her. To do the best to make life as normal as possible. We read books by the dozen. We spoke to other parents with visually challenged children. We went for counselling. Everything may help. In the end, it is our faith, family support and commitment that changed our lives forever.'

"We decided we will forget that Tara lacked one of her senses. She does have the others. So we were going to stimulate the others!!"

Image courtesy

At that point Tara and Aakaash walked in. After introductions and lots of chit chat I requested that I take leave so I can come back tomorrow to continue. I realised I had forgotten to call for a Taxi. Meghna, the gracious host insisted I have dinner and stay over. Ofcourse she would not accept the excuse of not having my clothes with me. Tara could lend me hers. I considered the offer. The hotel was quite far off and it was getting late and I was quite enjoying the company of this lovely family. I accepted. 

That's when I saw. Saw what I had not noticed before. It zipped right past me as I squealed and pulled up my legs in fear. God save me. How am I even going to stay here I thought in horror.

To be continued......

I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 8th - 14th December 2013. Today's prompt is memory/memories. 

References

http://www.retina-international.org/eye-conditions/retinal-degenerative-conditions/leber-congenital-amaurosis/#trans

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blindness

http://www.wonderbaby.org/articles/lebers-congenital-amaurosis-lca-faq

MAKE IT COUNT

She was a social worker.  She, and a few other helpful and passionate citizens, were working for the past year and a half in rescuing children from forced prostitution and rehabilitating them.

She sat in the balcony of her apartment, her legs propped up on a stool the held a cushion to support her ankle, while her mother brought her soup.

"Why do you have to do this? can't you get someone to help? the police? I understand the importance and gravity of the situation. I am proud of what you do. But must you go yourself every time?"

This was a regular dialogue between the two of them. This time she was beaten up when she tried to escape with two girls she had tried to rescue from the clutches of those "animals"!! A sprained ankle, a few bruises and a painful back. Nothing serious. The girls were safe. That was all that mattered.

But then mothers will be mothers. Concern written all over her face, she leaves the soup and walks away.

Two days later. She sat at the hospital, waiting for her check up, talking on the phone.

One of her regular informers had found out that 15 girls were going to be sold abroad sometime in the next week.  There were a few big names involved. Lot of pressure. Lots of money involved. Quite risky, was the informer's warning. She was not going to tell her mom. not yet. She would unnecessarily worry.

She stepped out of the hospital after collecting her reports of the complete master check up that her mother had insisted on.

It was drizzling. She shivered slightly as the cold wind hit her and mild droplets of water fell on her face. She was more determined than ever.

This time, she raised the bar...

She was going to save those lives before they stepped out of Indian soil. Come what may. she had nothing to lose.

She had just found out she did not have much time to live. She was going to make it count.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.  This time your entry must contain, ‘This time, she raised the bar…’

When I Figured Out What This Girl Is Doing, I Felt Sick To My Stomach

http://www.upworthy.com

Damn. We all know statistics are supposed to provide insight, but sometimes numbers just make problems more abstract. That's not the case with this video. It feels so real that I wish it wasn't.

Video courtesy

A NEW LEASE ON LIFE

She had just got back from work. She worked with a women's organisation. They provide opportunities for self employment and employ women. Women and children who have been rescued from brothels and bonded labour.

It was around 4.00 pm. She heard voices. She lookef out her window that overlooked the slum in their area.

"I will come back at 11.00 tonight. I will give you an advance and the rest after the hand over." a voice said.

She ran out and hid behind the compound wall to get a closer look. He was leaving. As he turned she saw a tattoo on his neck.

She had seen thst tattoo before! If only she could remember where.

As she racked her brains trying to figure it out, she saw the innocent 12 year old playing outside with her brother.

There was something amiss. She felt that familiar throbbing in her forehead as she lay on her bed. Thinking.  she closed her eyes. A few minutes passed.

Her eyes flew open as beads of perspiration formed on her forehead. Ofcourse!! How could she forget!!

She was 15. Sold by her parents who were tea pickers in assam. A shiver ran down her spine as she thought of how he had raped her several times as she begged for mercy. After 3 years of sexual slavery and violence, she was rescued by the organisation she currently worked for.

After months of counselling and help she had only now settled in her new found life.

She did not think twice. She picked up the phone and called.

The next morning she woke up and looked out the window. She smiled as she saw the girl playing with her brother. She would never let what happened to her,  happen to anyone else.

He was behind bars.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
This time your entry must contain, ‘He/She had seen that tattoo before! If only he/she could remember where.’

Human trafficking is the trade in humans, most commonly for the purpose of sexual slavery, forced labor or for the extraction of organs
or tissues,[1][2] including surrogacy and ova removal.
In India BBC reports that police records from 2011 show kidnappings and abductions of women were up 19.4 per cent, so too women being killed in disputes over dowry payments by 2.7 per cent, torture by 5.4 per cent, molestation by 5.8 per cent and trafficking by 122 per cent over the last one year.

http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/keyword/human-trafficking

http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_trafficking

http://crs-blog.org/human-trafficking-in-india-one-womans-story/

http://www.prajwalaindia.com/home.html

http://www.notforsalecampaign.org/global-initiatives/india/

CONTROLLING INTEREST

He drove fast and rash. He was livid.

It was not new. He got angry pretty often. What he was, what his life is and why he behaved the way he did was all her fault!! He smiled to himself. Yes...all her fault.

She was in pain. Lying on the floor. Clutching her stomach. A sharp pain shot through her shoulder as she bit her lips to stop herself from screaming. This was not new. He saw her talking to the milkman. She tried to explain it was nothing. But he would not believe her.

He laughed loudly. He would plan better tomorrow. He would apologize tonight as usual, have his way...but tomorrow is another day.

The pain was getting worse. But she was scared. She was scared of what he would do if she told someone. He even threatened to hurt her only companion,  her labrador whom she adored. She had kept this a secret for too long. He would not allow her to keep in touch with her family and friends.

He was the only important person in his world. And so should he be in her life. And why not? Everything has to happen just the way he wants it when he wants It. He will go to any lengths to get what he wants. Emotional blackmail, shameless begging, apologizing, getting her gifts, belittling,  shaming, threatening or even violence.

She sobbed. She wad well educated.  but he did not trust her enough to let her work. Why did she take such crap? She thought. She always tried to calm him, trying to keep him happy by doing things he likes and the way he wants. She thought of her parents who have 2 more daughters to wed. She can make this work. She has to make it work.

He knew power was everything. And fear. He had to be in control. He had to keep the fear alive. She was but his slave and servant who has to do his bidding. Why could she not understand this simple concept?

She was bleeding now...never before was it so bad. She had never gone to a doctor. Covered her bruises and wounds by wearing clothes that conceal them. She thought for a second.

He wondered why she did not call him and apologize.  he always left a phone there just so she could. And she always called.  and he would let it ring and ring till she calls him many times over.

She picked up the phone and made one last phone call. "amma" she said.

As he was wondering why she had not called, his phone started ringing. It was an unfamiliar number. He realized he had been out of range for few minutes. It stopped ringing. He parked the car at the side of the road and checked his phone.

38 missed calls in 10 mins! He wondered what was going on.

All different numbers. Not one call from her. He called the last number. A female voice answered. "I am your wife's lawyer. She has lodged a complaint against you. In the beating you gave her today she is not only injured but had a miscarriage. Any communications from now on will be routed through me." He cut the line.

She sat in the hospital surrounded by her family.  she cried and cried as she was comforted by her loved ones. She felt the burden ease from her shoulders. The loss was irreparable but there was hope.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. Panic struck. They knew. They all knew. He started driving weighing his options. He could think of none. He could not think anymore. Tears rolled down.  He did not see the bus in front of him as he made the turn.

So this is what pain and fear feel like...he thought...as his eyes closed involuntarily.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This time your entry must contain, ’38 missed calls in 10 mins! He/She wondered what was going on.’

Domestic violence need not be only physical or sexual in nature. Emotional violence also exists.  it may cause far more harm than just physical injuries. It need not be essentially against women. It could be against old residents in a home, mentally or physically challenged, people of different sexual orientation,  and even men. Please check out the following links for more information on such violence and spread the word. A little knowledge can can save a life.

http://m.helpguide.org/articles/abuse/domestic-violence

http://www.domesticviolence.org

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/topic/domestic-violence

ITS DIWALI!! - LETS PLAY IT NICE

Its diwali morning!!! The house is filled with the delicious aroma of sweets and the amazing spread of diwali lunch that was being prepared. 

They hurriedly had their bath and and yelled, "come on, lets burst crackers!!."

They picked up the large assortment of crackers that included atom bombs, 100 walas, 1000 walas and many more. "Lets start with the smaller crackers" dad said.

For almost an hour they burst crackers and laugh and jump in joy. BANG BANG BANG....the place is filled with smoke and the street full of papers from the burst crackers.

"Lets burst  the 10000 wala daddy...please..." the little one said.

One thing they did'nt know that they were being watched.

By a pair of scared beady black eyes from under the sofa on the verandah.. His tail between his legs. Shivering at every sound. "What are these sounds?" he wondered. He was petrified of them. It had been going on and on for a long time now. "I don't think I will go out anymore!!" he thinks.

They start to burst their 10000 wala with loud cheers and applause from neighbors and onlookers. The loud noise of the crackers drown the barks and whines of their one year old pet german sheperd.

A PLEA TO FELLOW HUMANS: pet dogs are not the only ones who need to be cared for. Stray dogs also need the same consideration. Let us try to celebrate a nice diwali and try to minimize loud crackers. If not able to stop it completely. Before turning vegetarian for the cause of prevention of animal cruelty, let us not burst crackers and help the animals right in front of our eyes. A small sacrifice for these poor creatures who we share our planet with.

http://www.aspca.org/pet-care/virtual-pet-behaviorist/dog-behavior/fear-noises

http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2012-11-12/delhi/35068073_1_pet-dog-three-stray-dogs-animal-lovers

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.This time your entry must contain, ‘One thing he/she/they didn’t know they were being watched.

THE LANGUAGE OF MUSIC

She sat alone in the room, on the floor, legs crossed as her back rested on the wall, straight.

The music player was playing Beethovin's fifth symphony.

She breathed and shifted uncomfortably.

Around the music player lay scattered several cd's.

Suprabatham to the Gayathri mantra.

A.R.Rahman and Illayaraja.

Billy joel, kenny G and the carpenters.

Kishore kumar and R.D.Burman.

An array of Disney classics.

She streached her legs and relaxed a bit, humming the tune.

As Beethovin came to an end, she asked "what would you like to listen to next sweetheart? "

"Hmmm...come on...we listened to
Rahman yesterday too. How about Billy Joel?"

"no?" she said with a frown.

"Fine. ..how about some good Disney classics. I am sure you will love the lion king."

"ok?...that's great. Next time its my choice."

She leaned over to change the CD.

One thing she din't know was that she was being watched.

He walked into the room as he smiled at his 8 months pregnant wife and said, "here...let me do that for you".

She smiled at him her face radiant and happy as she felt a little kick and tumble in her tummy.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.This time your entry must contain, ‘One thing he/she/they didn’t know they were being watched.