A Lesson In Giving

January 26, 2001. We had all gathered at our school in Gujarat to celebrate our Republic day. The tricolour was unfurled followed by parade and performances. We all waited eagerly to know who was going to be awarded the best student of the year. It was a proud moment for me to hear my son’s name being announced! I was rejoicing over this achievement as a mother and a teacher too. Just then I observed the flag post sway a little. In no time the earth under my feet was kind of vibrating and the light poles were violently swaying. The students came running to me to ask, “eacher, teacher, what’s happening?” I said disbelievingly,”this must be an e a r t h q u a k e!” Soon along with other colleagues, I became busy calming and assuring the students outside. Common sense guided us to keep them away from the school building, just in case the building collapsed.

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But there were students inside the school building too! Some were on the first floor and some in the ground floor classes, changing their costumes and waiting to be picked up by parents. I saw my son along with our PT teacher and a nun rushing into the school and carefully bringing the kids out. Without a concern for their safety they successfully brought all the kids out safely, much to the relief of the anxious parents. I was indeed extremely proud of my son.

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After a few anxious moments, the situation was back to normal and we were ready to head back home. During the drive, we called my parents to inform them about the award and also mentioned the earthquake. Believe me, we were unaware of the extent of damage the earthquake had done in rest of Gujarat.

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As we came closer to our locality we saw crowds gathered here and there, talking animatedly. Gradually all communication lines got cut off and television news revealed the deathly dance of the killer earthquake. We were just fortunate to be in a city where there was minimum damage. But slowly news of death, loss and chaos poured in from the neighbouring cities and the worst came from Kutch. Tragic news of death and destruction of lives known to us, school kids trapped under collapsed buildings, missing members of families and inaccessible cities. I felt so sad and helpless. Doom prevailed and as did guilt for being so safe and comfortable while all around  people were suffering!

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Any amount of donations-money, clothes, blankets, food grains could not lift me from my depression. Appetite was dead long back. Though I would cook for my family, I could only see the faces of people in distress in my plate and I could not eat.

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Some NGO had set up a centre for volunteers to cook and prepare food packets .They were to be sent to a place from where they would be air dropped to survivor, as all roads had collapsed. I joined my colleagues in making the food packets. I felt a little better. But still could not eat.

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At home I was sharing with my kids, my experience of mass cooking and trucks carrying the food. I also mentioned that there was a major shortage of drinking water and fear of survivors dying out of thirst.

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As always, my10-year-old daughter said she would be out in the neighbourhood to play for sometime. I was a little anxious when she did not return on the usual time. After a long time she returned with her young friends, all clutching bags full of used plastic bottles of Pepsi, Coke etc., They had collected hundreds of such bottles from the neighbourhood. She wanted to clean them, fill them with drinking water and send them to the earthquake hit places! I was speechless! She had called couple of her friends, knocked on every door in the neighbourhood and collected those bottles. A proud me helped her clean and sterilise the bottles and fill them up with drinking water. Loaded them in the car and reached them to the waiting trucks.

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Needless to say, that after  many days I had a full meal and a restful night.

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