He was always missing
from my class
even though he sat
looking attentive
Until he fell asleep .
Shivendra kumar
I named him Shiva
All of five years
And such a package of delight.
His cherubic mouth, rosy cheeks and
Sparkling brown eyes
In front.
I was sure
He was the apple of his parents eyes
Till I learnt the ugly truth.
Why do people bear children
If it's not their intentions
To care for them well?
This is a question
I have asked me
And the world at large
From time to time.
On asking my mother,
I got a sweet response .
She said,
They make life a worthy cause.
They bring sweetness
and camaraderie together.
They make us aware
what true innocence is
Until
We start to corrupt them.
Getting back to Shivindra
He was named after Lord Shiva .
His mother did adore him
Even when she hadn't bore him
From her womb.
She worked hard
To give him a good life.
A nurse by profession, her days were full.
She couldn’t conceive
So the next best choice
Was to adopt .
She married because of that reason.
Shiva was a package deal.
He was naughty as hell
Stole tiffins , ate them.
He beat up the classmates
With his belt.
And teased the girls.
This was when
I was absent
And a substitute was in charge .
I could not believe it
When told all of this.
My little angel was a devil incarnate.
One of the rainy days
I learnt a truth .
Streaks of blood had appeared
At the back of his shirt.
You know how it is
Moist cloth does tend to absorb the littlest colour.
When I patted his back
To appreciate his classwork
He winced. Shivered.
Taking him outside later
I discovered
Welts of undried canning .
He had been beaten bad.
That day I took him
Under my wing .
He was with me the whole time.
At break time
I saw he carried a snack box
Which was empty
barring the residual pieces of stale bread
From days before.
On asking Who hurt him
He kept quiet and turned his back to me.
Late milestones
(He had been a problem baby.)
In any case he spoke little.
In our classroom
Cause he stammered.
He had just begun
To build a vocabulary.
We called his mother
She was very apologetic
She was aware
Of these beatings.
He was naughty at home .
Broke things . Destructive .
Latest being the New Television.
His unemployed father thrived on.
When we asked for about the father
She went quiet. Head bent low,
She said, She did not know
How to contact him.
Being jobless
He was searching for work.
He was also irritable
As he couldn't provide .
He was a drunkard
And demanded a pocket money
To care for the boy.
Shiva's beatings increased
He knew now though
That to hide away his woes
He needed to keep away .
Sometimes he went missing the whole day.
He hid in the school premises.
Old sheds, the shrubbery and toilets.
Announcements were made
And search parties set .
I found him marked absent
Sometimes in a few classes.
(The teachers whom he disliked
For they used the rod.)
A small boy with secrets galore.
His mother was a gentle soul
And very good at Her work.
She worked hard to provide
A good life .
It was one of those days
When I decided to personally check out
What exactly ailed this family .
(Thoughts about him troubled me at night.)
I was his teacher
And this much I believe I was entitled.
Noting down his address
I made my visit.
It was a Saturday.
School was off.
Nobody attended the call bell
It wasn't possible
A kid to be left unattended.
One as naughty as him.
I went around the house.
Peeped into the windows
Till I saw the unthinkable .
He sat on a chair
Tied up with a cord.
He was asleep
With his head hanging down
on his shoulder.
I knocked on the window
It didn’t waken him.
The sound ,though, did make someone alert.
I sought permission
and brought in the authorities.
When I returned
And rang the bell once again,
Calling loud the boy’s name.
Out came the father
Looking annoyed at first.
Then began the denials
and the mother was called.
See , this is where she broke down.
Revealed that he was a brute .
She pleaded on his behalf
Cause he is the father.
But I wanted to meet Shiva first
And speak with him.
On entering his room
saw him laid up on bed.
His wrists were red.
He did not move a bit.
But His eyes tightly shut and
His fists closed tight,
That gave it way .
I picked him up
And he shouted in pain.
On asking the how and why
He did not have a reply
Just wept a lot.
The father was informed to report
To the police station
For child abuse .
( boy later revealed
The man beat his mother too.
black and blue.)
On being told there would be action taken.
He said he was a lawyer
He knew his rights
He knew his rights for all the wrongs he did.
Systems don’t work efficiently
For what they have been placed.
Child help line calls went unanswered
So the police was called,
that did the trick .
Sending off that ugly prick
Away from the family .
Away from physical and mental harm.
Months later, the mother confided.
The man always called the little boy ‘bastard’.
Even though the name was chosen by him.
‘ A blessing from the Gods’ he’d said.
' Shiva’s biological mother had been
a prostitute’.
She died during the delivery.
She was her own sister.
The one who funded her nurse training.
The husband found out this secret
One day whilst searching through her documents
and then began the torture.
Alpana Issar
I do believe we can get through this thing called life smoothly if we reach out to each other earnestly . There is enough for all if we share. An artist by profession and have been a teacher by vocation. Life has been beautiful with all the challenges thrown at us . We just grow stronger.
Teacher, Painter, Photographer and an outreach activist. Presently living in Vishakapatnam on the eastern coast of India. I am grateful for the way of life which has given me many fine opportunities to hone and develop my skills as a person with many interests. I have also been very fortunate to travel through India and abroad, learn about different cultures and learn a foreign language while living in Chile Published poetry in two Anthologies by Roopali Gaur Sircar &Anita Nahal.
Diverse voices -In all the spaces And Earth fire water wind .
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