where broken hearts get fixed


Little anisha will have her heart fixed. Hers is the 10th broken heart that has come our way for fixing! Each with its own story, each with the hopes and prayers of the ones that gave it life. Each came from across the invisible barriers that divide our society with hope written large on their faces, a hope we could not shatter. Raju came in 2003 and garnering the 100 000 rs required seemed an impossible task, yet it happened. And somehow each subsequent one became a tad easier. So before we could even get the virtual begging process started for anisha, an angel dropped the required amount quietly without much ado or fanfare.

Was it only 4 years ago that a heart surgery required so much mailing and explaining. Was it only 4 years ago that silent petitions had to be sent to godji to ensure that the missing numbers came by before the scheduled dates. Or is there a hidden message shrouded in the apparent ease with which the amount required for anisha's surgery was met.

I do not know.

Somehow she entered our lives when we were all trying to grasp the horrific unfolding of the NOIDA killings. I cannot say why, but she brought into the room the much needed hope we were all gasping for. Her eyes held a fleeting promise that maybe we could redeem ourselves and begin to build the much needed bridges to reach those we have so pathetically let down.

In her huge eyes one could see the eyes all the slain and abused children asking us to gather the courage to see them rather than look away as they were children just like ours who were let down by uncaring adults. Her parents stood silently, painfully aware of the fact that they belonged to the other side and that invisible barriers existed and needed to be respected. Their eyes pleading, their words barely audible, their answers hesitant were stark reminders of the fact that two Indias existed beyond doubt and in that little room both were present.

And what was at stake was a child's life. My mind went to the mothers who must have stood at the gate of a police station seeking help to find their lost child and geting none and to the sense of utter despair that must have filled them when they understood that none was forthcoming.

It does not take much to lend a helping hand, to build a tiny bond that does not take much from us but can perhaps help save a life or at least bring hope and solace.

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