contd..

Things changed with a phone call. 

Three years ago, Sister Annie, the in-charge got a call from the higher authorities informing her that a family was interested in adopting Meera. Everyone was happy. But what came as a surprise was that the family wasn't Indian. An American family wanted to adopt Meera. With surprise, came anxiety and worry.

-"How will Meera adjust there?" worried the entire orphanage.

-*-

-"There's good news for you Meera." Sister spoke holding Meera's hands in hers.

-"What is it?" Meera smiled wide.

-"We just got a call. A family wishes to have Meera as their daughter."

-"Really!!" Meera exclaimed.

Sister nodded smiling.

-"But you are not going to stay in Bolpur anymore. Your family lives elsewhere."

-"Then?"

-"You'll be shifting to the US with your family."

-"US?"

-"It's a beautiful country, Meera." Anjali, one of the caretakers of the orphanage responded carefully.

-*-

Meera didn't care. She was just happy with the news of herself having a family of her own. Meera was too young to think anything deeper.

Soon a teacher was appointed for her. Meera was required to learn English. She studied in a vernacular medium school. Though she had English as a subject, Meera needed to get used to speaking and understanding fluent American English. Her training also included learning all the etiquettes necessary. By now, she had already learned to use a fork and knife.

Meera initially enjoyed the training. However, as days went by, it started to annoy her. Meera was too mature to be a twelve-year-old. Being an orphan came with a lot of things. Meera was way mature than her age. Solitude taught her to think, to love herself as she was. She somehow felt that this entire adoption episode was trying to cut her off of her individuality.

Meera wasn't allowed to have her food with her hands. She was compelled to have rice with a spoon. Meera hated it. She hated this overuse of her newly learned skill.

*********

Time flew faster than expected. It was November 10th. Meera's 'adoptive' parents were to arrive today at around 9 in the morning. Meera was anxious. Thoughts ran in her mind.

What if they don't like me?

What if they force me to stop singing?

And the 'what if' she dreaded the most.

What if her name changes to something very American?

Meera was sitting in the backyard of the orphanage. The Sun was scorching. She had a few drops of sweat formed on her forehead. A huge, old mango tree stood by her, supporting a swing. There was a small pond on the premises too. Meera stared at the swing recalling the happy memories with her friends here.

Like any other orphan child, Meera always dreamt of a family. As a kid, nobody picked her for adoption. She hated it when everyone else started having a family but her. However, she gradually learned to adjust and adapt.

Meera was so much into her thoughts that she didn't even realize when Anjali stood behind her.

-"Meera, is your packing done?" Anjali asked softly.

Meera turned her back and nodded. Anjali saw the anxiety visible in her eyes.

-"What's the matter?" Anjali asked.

-"I don't know them." Meera paused for a second and continued, "I have seen their pictures. I know their names. But I don't know them."

-"You'll gradually know your family."

-"No. You don't understand. I am not their real child. They will never understand me."

Anjali was surprised to hear the former. She held Meera's shoulders soft yet firmly.

-"Meera, understanding one's child has nothing to do with being 'real'." She air- quoted the last word.

Meera stared at her not understanding anything.

-"Meera," Anjali continued asking, "I too have a son, whom I had birthed, right?"

Meera nodded listening intently.

-"When I had him in my arms for the first time, I didn't know him, at all. And neither did he. But with time, things changed. We both gradually learned about one another. A mother doesn't feed her child until he cries of hunger. So Meeru, give yourself time to understand your family and be patient."

Meera again nodded.

-"Meera didi! Meera didi! They're here." Announced a very excited 'soon-to-be-adopted' five-year-old boy, Aritra.

As if on cue, Anjali and Meera got up. The lady supported her and walked her to the room where her family was waiting. Excitement had already overtaken anxiety in Meera. She quickly recited a couple of prayers and stepped in.

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