Begin to See the Light

Begin to See the Light

“Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark. Begin at the beginning. Tell Gregory a story. Make some light.”― Kate DiCamillo

‘Do I have a story for you at the end of the Pandemic year? It has been a year full of stories, some painful, some inspirational, but they have touched us each day. As the year ends and the new year sets in, numerous incidents will move you and perhaps leave a beautiful song of strength, poise and peace.

‘Ma’am, we have a lower portion of Grandma’s house vacant. The tenants have left, and we have been playing there?’

They then showed me a large room, ‘Is this the empty portion of the house?’

The girls yelled in joy and said, ‘It is our room, we have separate cots to sleep, ma’am. We used to share our bed earlier to this.

I peered deeply into the house and asked the girls, ‘Where are you now?’, they immediately used my screen to present the whole house.

The little girls jumped, giggled, and ran down the stairs. They focussed the view on the plants that lined the house. The house was an independent house which was double storied. They ran into the lower portion all excited and occupied the dining table peered into the screen asking me, ‘Do you like the house Ma’am?’, I nodded and said it was good.

‘Do you know, ma’am, we will be living here all alone. Our grandparents have agreed.’ They then caught the expression on my face and took me to the kitchen virtually. The kitchen was a large one painted in pink, and the platform looked sparkling clean, there weren’t any utensils, but it seemed ready for the kids to begin their cooking. The little girls were my friend’s daughters, and they were highly spirited that day.

These virtual scenes hurled me back into my childhood when my friends would rummage the school grounds probing a secret meeting place. Those were the days when we used to read Enid Blyton’s Secret Seven and Famous Five’.We finally found a clearing under the bougainvillaea bushes. The Bougainvillea bush that we liked was large and had a central hidden place between its overgrown creeper branches and had spread on the large expanse. We would often clean the hidden space under the overgrown bougainvillaea bushes with twigs and have our meetings. We were six in number and would have a password to enter and occasionally buy ice lollies to mark the occasion.

These young girls are aged nine and ten. They would join the virtual sessions conducted for them. They would log-in using the same device, then we could see them play occasional pranks and enjoy themselves. One of the days, I saw the younger girl writing a message and posting it in the Chat in saying, ‘Please admit my sister’.

I said, ‘Where is she?’ She said, ‘She was trying to gain admission using the device named Sibling Gaming’. I quickly let the sister in when she wanted an admission.

The girls had grown savvy with technology during the Pandemic. They owned mobile phones and laptops. All the kids had one on their name. An occasional glance from our balcony would reveal kids playing wholeheartedly in the green spaces, but I would also see the teenagers sitting together, browsing the phone data furiously. They would be oblivious of the presence of each other.

One of the days the young girls said, ‘Ma’am we have been Coding, can we leave early’ I remembered the English articulation and asked them,’ in which language?’. They told me they were learning HTML, and the talk took me to my Engineering students. We have students belonging to various strata of social life. They pursue engineering to fulfil the dreams of the society to which they belong. They are receptive and value their education. They carry rich experiences. The students are friendly, and we often discuss the issues that catch our attention. In one of these talks, I had heard one of the students say that the actual coding happens when the students gain sufficient knowledge of Maths, Physics and they perfect in Algorithms, but these little girls were growing well in the basics of coding.

That evening on our walk, I heard a bird-like tweet, it kept going on and could be heard far away from its origin. As we reached the source, we saw a makeshift mobile van that had been turned into a tea and snack centre. A nine-year-old boy kept whistling gleefully to attract passersby to the Tea stall. He hung his head out of the van, the sidewalls of the mobile van were movable. The van seemed just a platform with two walls in the background. The recession and joblessness brought up numerous tea and snack centres at the same place. A few of these stalls were open with details like finely spaced seating and attractive settings made them fascinating.

Many people opted to buy tea here to keep themselves safe during the Pandemic, but the little boy’s place wasn’t clean, though the biscuits they were selling was sealed in a large glass jar. This stall had only a tweet to attract people. The Pandemic saw joblessness, and many of the children had to drop out of their schooling owing to the high fees and online education. These students are intelligent, yet the lack of resources and responsibilities at home prompted them to help their parents. It was perhaps a social coding to their responsibilities.

A walk further revealed two little boys oblivious to their surroundings as they peered into their mobile phones. They were managing a large vegetable store for their parents. The parents weren’t visible, but these little boys were engrossed in their mobile phone. The evening sky had numerous hues, but these boys were hooked on to their flat mobile screen. I wanted to jerk the little boys and tell them to enjoy their playtime, simple walks, eat food joyfully and breathe the morning air deeply relinquishing the gush of air exploding their lungs for we never know when nature will cripple us again.

“But how could you live and have no story to tell?”― Fyodor Dostoevsky