Bang Bang Galore!
A Filmmaker’s BLOGELLA
Written by Steve Rosenberg
Blog 43 (The Party)
There is no formal party the night before my departure. Due to an extended music rehearsal for an upcoming event, my farewell dinner is delayed by several hours. The children prepare their usual rice and beans and line the cement floors with bamboo mats. It seems like an ordinary dinner, except by some crazy coincidence, the whodunit adventure film playing on television is art- directed by John Deveraj.
Most of the evening, the kids are absorbed in this show our dinner hour is spent in front of the tube. It is nearing bedtime and John finally orders the children to pull the plug on the TV. He calls for a round of speeches from the kids to thank me for sponsoring their dinner. This business of composing formal speeches feels stilted to me, almost like an assignment and I am embarrassed to be in this artificial spotlight. I would prefer hugs, handshakes and of course lots of dancing.
Satish, the boy with one leg is the most emotional in the group and has to choke back his tears while he bids me farewell. I will never forget the story he told me about his near strangulation by his step- mother; he decided to live on the streets and made his escape at midnight. What a brave kid! Anthony, my chief teasing adversary, tells me how much he will miss me and concludes his speech by describing me as someone akin to a grandfather. I’ve always considered myself to be his parent’s age, but Anthony reminds me that his grandfather is probably a more appropriate comparison. Anthony has the devil in him and I will always love him for that.
I am remarkably composed throughout these speeches and realize that there is a familiar refrain. They are all looking forward to seeing my film when it is complete. I love these children and want to kidnap a few of them for a while. It seems like such a long time ago, that I was so preoccupied with germs that remember avoiding their handshakes. But these kids made me feel so alive, and now all I want from them are big hugs.
I hug and kiss everyone goodbye and by the time I reached Gowri, I have a big lump in my throat that does not easily pass. I cradle her head in my hands and kiss the top of her head. I will never forget the sound of her giggle or her sunny smile. I’ve never seen this child in a bad mood for more than a moment. They are all so heavenly. Moving slowly through the room offering and receiving my final set of hugs, I am face to face with John. Our hug is a perfunctory mannered affair and peppered with hollow sentiments.
As I wait for a rickshaw outside the youth hostel, Mio adjusts the straps of her motorcycle helmet and places it on her head. While in the midst of saying our goodbyes, the gurgling sound of muffler of the autorickshaw interrupts us. It is a brief salute because I know I will see her again tomorrow after I deliver my cell phone. Pulling away from the Born Free youth hostel, I am numbed by the emptiness of the moment.
