The Boy who rescued Me

At 25, I was in a bad relationship and felt completely disconnected with myself. I was struggling with a life that I didn’t want and work that did not gratify. As far as I was concerned, life had dealt me an unfair hand. Despite the fact that I had loving parents, who were willing to support me always, I felt alone and misunderstood. Having made a series of bad choices in my life, I was not willing to accept the responsibility of any. Like most people in my position, I was focused only in blame shifting, complaining about life’s unfairness and wallowing in self pity.

October 2005 saw a disastrous earthquake hit Pakistan. Many were dead, injured, homeless and missing. There are times in your life, when a catastrophe so great occurs, every personal thought is drowned in the tidal wave of the colossal loss. Driven by grief, I would make my way to the local hospital almost every evening, hoping to be able to make some difference, hoping to be able to help. A lot of people were being evacuated from the Northern regions and brought to the Capital for medical aid and to be provided shelter, since all that they had known had been destroyed. Men, women and children homeless, without proper clothing and no one to turn to. The hospitals were crammed with the effected and the volunteers; who came in huge numbers everyday to help those in need.

It was on one such visit that I met Bilal, a young boy of about 8 years, sitting outside a children’s ward. He had a very serious and mellow expression on his face and looked aloof from his surrounding.  I went to him and asked him the usual questions, what was his name, where did he come from. First, he ignored me, when he saw that I was not ready to budge he told me that his family had died when the roof of their house collapsed. When I questioned him further he just got up and left.

Feeling perturbed, I again went the next day looking for him, this time I found him sitting beside an injured young girl of about four years. He was holding her head affectionately in his lap and stroking her hair. The girl had a bandage around her head and was holding his hand. Not wanting to intrude, I waited aside, till he got up, apparently to fetch something. I went after him and said hello in a familiar manner. He looked at me and the same indifferent and cold expression returned to his face. Seeing that, I told him that all I wanted to do was help; did he need warm clothes, food, and shelter? Could I inform his guardians? Was there some emotional help that I could provide him? He remained quiet for a few moments as if calculating an appropriate response, he told me that his father’s brother was all that was left of his family other than that an injured sister, then he left.

Encouraged by his willingness to open up, I ventured back the next day. He was with his sister, who was fast asleep. I had with me a small token that I set aside and inquired after his sister. He gave a brief response of her being better than before. I sat there beside them silently for a while and then dared to ask where this uncle was and why were the kids not with him. The same indifferent look returned and looking me straight in the eyes he said that the Uncle had returned to the village to help with the rescue efforts and after a pause added, “My uncle has told me that now I am the head of my family and am old enough to shoulder my responsibilities. My sister and I are neither in need of your sympathy nor your charity. ”

I stepped back and with a weak smile, begged leave. This young boy indeed did not need my help. That day I returned home in a trance, what had he said that had shattered something so deep in me. I felt like a mirror had broken in my face and now the shards of glass were cutting through my skin and reaching my brain. Old enough to take responsibility???? A boy of 8 who 24 hours earlier may have been playing in the street and yelling to his mom for snacks. Whose life had changed in the few seconds that brought his home, his village and everything he knew tumbling to ground and reduced to dust? He was sitting there, aged beyond his 8 years and had acquired the dignity of a seasoned caretaker. He had understood that his life had changed forever and he was up and centre, ready to face the worst, with courage in his heart and dignity drying his tears. He was not complaining to the whole world about the earthquake that had shaken his life. Instead of complains, there was poise and fortitude. He did not cling to me, a temporary relief for any sympathy.

I kept reeling for a few days not able to focus my attention on anything. Soon it was clear to me that I was at the crossroads of my life, I had two courses of action open and it would be my call whatever I chose. I vowed then, to take responsibility of every action that I took and deal with life upfront. I went back to look for him after sometime later but he had gone and no one was able to give me any leads to find him.

I cleaned up the mess in my life, it took time and courage, but every time I was faced with something too difficult to handle, instead of burying my head in the sand I took courage from Bilal. Six years later, I am a better person and have a blessed life.  Every now and then I think of him and say a silent prayer for him in my heart.

The boy I had intended to rescue had saved my life.