Jiva to Atma

Once we reached the Home, I got out and walked along with Jaya, the lady whose car I was following. She introduce me to another devotee there and together they explained to me briefly about what would take place. Devotees who had gotten to some of the residents of the Home from previous visits would go in to their rooms and wheel them in to the activity room on the ground floor. The activity room was a mid-sized hall with tables and chairs. Residents were sitting at the tables either on the chairs or on their wheelchairs and when we went in, there was a little exercise session in progress. They were all feebly raising their hands up and down, swaying their foot side to side and getting a little workout. It was my first time in an old age home, and this was the first sight that greeted my eyes.

Everything looked and felt so strange at first, and I felt a deep sadness looking around at all these old old grandmotherly figures, who did not have any family to care for them, or whose families did not want to care for them anymore. My heart cried for all these people and I fervently prayed that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt them in anyway, through my efforts to be of help. It was a paranoid thought, but I was nervous. All the devotees came in one by one, and the pleasantest thing to see was that each and every one of them brought their kids along. There were children ranging from 5 to 12 years and all of them looked at home and relaxed. Whichever adult caught my eye, looked at me and smiled a warm welcoming smile, that put me more and more at ease.

The service at this Home takes place once a month, and the activities involve doing a little bit of craft work followed by group singing. In the middle of all this, the devotees move around and talk with the residents asking after them and being pleasant and loving. Some devotees become attached to 1 or 2 residents and mingle more with those residents to keep up the personal touch. I found this aspect very lovely. Its like making a friend in there and coming back to that friend every month to catch up with them.

The craft work this month was a printout of a shamrock in accordance with St. Patrick’s Day. The residents could colour on them on their own if they liked, or with our assistance. So once all the materials were set up, we moved from table to table handing out the supplies. The very first table I went to had 3 old ladies sitting. When I approached their table and asked if they’d like a craft paper, one of them piped up warmly saying…yes, of course…that would be nice. It was the first real interaction I had had, and I looked at her gratefully for being so welcoming with me. She said she couldn’t colour, and I promised to come back to her table to help her out.

Once I had distributed the papers out, I came back to my first table. Now would be a good time to introduce the wonderful people that sat here. The person who had first spoken to me was Audrey. Mext to her was sweet sweet Alzada. I do not know the 3rd person’s name because one of the attendants had wheeled her away by the time I got to her. She hardly spoke and looked very serious and quiet. I helped Audrey colour the shamrock, all the while talking to her. She wanted to know my name, and all about my family. And when she heard about little Thambi, her interest was piqued and she wanted to know all the things he got up to, when I mentioned how naughty he was. There was a sweet indulgent smile playing on her lips as she listened. I guess I should have told her to check out my blog sometime. *wink*

She mentioned that she was almost blind and could not make out colours, hence her request that I do the craft for her. I asked her of she could see me, and she said that since I was sitting close, she could. Alzada was a very interesting person! For one, she had very defined tastes on what colours she wanted to use on the paper. We had given out a selection of greens for the shamrock, but she wanted some nice bright colours, she declared…like some reds and oranges. Yes Ma’am! I got her a nice assortment of colours, and she wanted me to colour hers too, because she wasn’t able to get some colour in. To be fair to her, she had tried to colour, but because of her inability to press the crayon, no colour was coming through on the paper. I held her hands and we coloured together.

She had such long fingers. It must have looked very beautiful in her younger days. They were still very well manicured hands, and I was soo… mindful that I shouldn’t apply too much pressure, because what if it hurt her fragile hands? We finished colouring, but she was still not satisfied. She asked me to put stickers there, there and there, mentioning the exact placements, she directed me on what colours to use where and once I did, she was very happy with the outcome. She had me work on the paper that I had given the 3rd lady, whose name I do not know, and she kept all 3 artworks with herself, even Audrey’s, who gave hers up willingly to her friend. It was sweet.

In the meantime, the singing had begun. A 12 year old girl played the flute and how! And then one of the devotees, an American named Jeff, picked up the guitar and he and all the kids together sang beautifully…I can’t remember the names of most of the songs, only that I had heard them before. He tried to get in a lot of Irish numbers on occasion of St. Patrick’s Day and Oh Susanna was one of them. There was this extremely simple and haunting song called Kumbaya, my Lord. Kumbaya is an African word meaning Come by here.And since this song is so so beautiful, and I found an amazing version of it on youtube, I will link it here.

They ended the singing with Amazing Grace,  a song amazing in itself. Throughout the course of that morning, I had been having a feeling of being utterly blessed and in bliss. I looked around the room, and saw nothing but a sea of faces with God’s spirit imprinted upon them. In the beautiful ecstasy of that moment, I could see through to the God that was the indweller in each and every one’s heart. I felt so much love, and so much of gentleness and compassion. I looked at the kids up there in the front of the room, singing so beautifully and comfortably, and felt so proud of them, for being such beautiful carriers of today’s message of God in tomorrow’s world. I looked at the faces of the devotees, all soft and lit up with love, tending gently to the residents sitting at the tables, speaking softly, putting an arm around them, bending down deferentially to hear what they had to say, and when any one of them caught my eye, they had such a beatific smile of welcome and warmth, I felt immensely lucky to be in that circle of God’s love. One of them, an older gentleman, complimented me on how well I was colouring for the friends at my table, and for a first timer like me, those were such encouraging words.

Truly, there is something magnificent in devotional singing. Be it the traditional India bhajans or the light English hymns. The songs had power to transform, and power to accord bliss. Everyone there in that room was bathed in a glory of peace and brotherhood. And thus…there I was…touched beyond any words, and the song of Amazing Grace begins to play….and as I look down at my songbook and sing the words, I realise that it is MY words of gratefulness to the Lord for his compassion on me, for showing me the path, and for helping me tread it. They were my words of gratitude and thanksgiving…every word of it….sharing it here to add more meaning to my narrative…

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me….
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.

T’was Grace that taught…
my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear…
the hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares…
we have already come.
T’was Grace that brought us safe thus far…
and Grace will lead us home.

The Lord has promised good to me…
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be…
as long as life endures.

When we’ve been here ten thousand years…
bright shining as the sun.
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise…
then when we’ve first begun.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,   
That saved a wretch like me….
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.

 

Tears came in my eyes as I sang this song, and I sang it with feeling and sincerity. I wondered the kind of impact it would have on all these old people, at the very fag end of this lifetime on earth…would it uplift them? Would it give them hope? Would it put a spring in their step for the rest of that day? It had to….because that’s how beautiful it was. Jeff had a fantastic voice and a gentle smile that was a direct mirror of the Lord’s love.

All too soon, it seemed, the music ended and one of the more active residents, spoke out loud on behalf of all the rest. She said how much they all enjoyed the group coming in once every month, and how good it made them feel. Please come again and again, she said, because we really look forward to it. Hearing that was such a motivating feeling. There are no bigger rewards here than bringing joy to the life of such old people, sitting far away from their real homes, in this old age home. At that moment, I felt that once a month was too infrequent and once a week would have been nicer. But I guess, with all things, you start with baby steps and once the foundation is in place, you build up on that more and more and give of yourself, more and more.

I took leave of my two friends Audrey and Alzada. I could see they were a little sad to see me go, but I promised to be back next month, and made them promise that they would be there too. Audrey said to bring my whole family the next time, and especially Thambi. I was determined that I would and told her so. And with that, I took my leave and we all left the Home.

….to be continued…

P.S – Audrey mentioned her birthday was on March 25, and Alzada’s on July 16.