Thirty years ago…..
It was a normal school day. All the kids were playing during the lunch break. The entire place was filled up with the pleasant cacophony of the innocent. There was this 9 year old boy playing with his friends. His structure of only skin and bones with no flesh did not match with his vigor and enthusiasm. Then all of a sudden the incident happened. The boy fell down with the entire weight of his body on his left elbow, which could not sustain the momentary pressure. It became clear later on that his left elbow was broken.
However, elders have told that when a boy becomes a man, he never cries. The urge to become a man was too strong, yet the pain was unbearable. With the help of his friends he wobbled to the sports teachers office, who gave a cursory look, seemed totally disinterested, told the boy to lie down on the sick-bed, got the telephone number of the boy’s father and called him to come and pick up his son…. and finally disappeared from the room.
The struggle between becoming a man and the pain was immense….. the boy bit his lip and tried hard to resist the tears, yet they came one by one until it became a steady flow while the boy writhed in pain on the sick-bed. Then came the white-robed person by accident….
He saw the boy on the bed and enquired what was the issue and when he realised the seriousness of the same, he left his work and sat beside the boy for the next one hour till the boy’s father came. Continuously he was stroking the head of the boy hoping that this will bring relief to the pain. He was also trying to sing, make some jokes through out, again hoping that the pain will subside soon.
Yet, the tears rolled off the young face of the boy who could hardly move because of the jolt he received from his broken elbow. But the elderly gentleman was wiping off the tears, singing, telling stories, caressing the boy’s head… doing all these things for ‘another’ student of the school, for a boy whose name also he did not know till that point of time. And because of the continuous pain, because of the great care and fatherly love, the boy slowly went to a slumber… and yet the robed person stayed besides him in case the boy wakes up….
Finally the boy’s father came to pick up his son and take him to a hospital. And he also saw the tenderness of this robed person, who lifted the boy on his own hands and took him to the car.
Thirty years later….
The boy has grown up and had become a man, and yet he still remembers this incident which brings in tears in respect to that great human being, that elderly robed person working in the school.
The great person’s name was Father Joseph Sassel, who came from Belgium at a young age and spent his lifetime at St. Xavier’s School, Calcutta totally dedicated to help young kids grow up in the ‘Small School’ not with just knowledge, but lots of values in life.
And the boy was me…
I write this as a tribute to the respected “Father”s in our school, who in spite of our pranks and naughty incidents, believed from their core of their heart that each one of us have great potential….. and dedicated their lives to develop us to be a better HUMAN BEING. Their contribution to make us “independent” is immense and as a selfish individual, I can think of this incident on my country’s independence day more than anything else.