Making the moments count…

This article is written by a friend of mine and it speaks of an amazing and beautiful personal experience of her and she has asked me to share it with you all:  

The author  Karishma S, is from Mumbai. She is a poet, an Engineer and a software developer by profession….  

 ”Making the moments count by Karishma S“ 

Numbers have become such an integral part of our system today that to assure knowledge and know-how too people term “experience” as a factor today.  Thus, age is often used to count the number of years a person has lived, but I feel that is only a psychologically quantifying factor. The quality of the years is what actually matters.  

I am only 24 years old but I have come across and gone through certain experiences which have made me feel I have lived  one  entire lifetime in those moments .These were the factors which have made me  recognize the significance  of being, I have been gifted with.  

 

Of those many ups and downs, I recollected one of my visits to the epitome of true pure love and kindness. I had the opportunity to see Mother Teresa’s orphanage where there were small children all below the age of five.  Some of them were only a couple of months old and many just a couple of days old. They were there mostly because they were born to unwed mothers. 

Now they were all alone in the world without a glimpse of an idea of what this world means.  Of course they are looked after in an exceptionally good way. They are given the best of food and toys and all the other care required. But what is missing is the love, the tenderness and softness of the mother’s bosom which the child feels when the mother carries him, the basic feeling of security which a new born baby too would understand. 

They crave attention like any child does. As all these thoughts rushed like the gush of wind to me, I realized, I was only an observer to the scene. I will stand there, think for two minutes about what is missing from the life of these kids, feel sorry for them and go back home and resume my daily chores. It is these kids who will have to face the harsh reality after sometime. It is them who will have to answer the daunting questions of the world.  

They say what you never have you never miss. Maybe these children will never miss not having parents. Their earliest memories might be those of having plentiful brothers and sisters all about the same age as them. Loads and loads of fun playing on the swings, playing with lots of toys and living a life of unknown reality.  

It was then what hit me…. Isn’t everyone entitled to a particular kind of life?  I do believe in destiny and fate, but fail to understand what these little angels have done or not done to be in this moment at this time.

As I walked through the doors of the orphanage I heard a little angel about eight to 9 months old, call out to me from her crib with her arms wide open, telling me to carry her. But I was not allowed to carry her, as the Sisters at Mother Teresa’s have told me that they don’t let you go once you carry them. So no point in making them cry, obviously I understood this.

Anyways I couldn’t help myself from going up to her. I think she did understand that I am not going to carry her. By now she must have been used to this. But I did stand there and play a game of peek-a-boo with her. Said a couple of rhymes and heard her giggle and laughed with her. For those moments I felt time was not there, it never existed. It was just me and the kids there and loads of laughter.

I felt I had lived a very sweet part of my life in those few moments that I was there.  I had understood so many things about my own life and made a couple of silent promises to myself. That day when I walked out of that orphanage I felt grown-up.

I felt a stronger sense of urge, responsibility and reason to exist… to make a difference… to be there for someone when they need… and I hope… I am able to keep my promise and fill in any void of the destiny of fate! 

Thank You! 

Karishma S 

Her blog: http://karishmasinghal.blogspot.com/ 

Image source: www.stanford.edu