I was in the fourth grade when my school
took us for an excursion to Malampuzha. For an innocent, ignorant child
everything was a wonder. I couldn't believe that many new things that I saw
could be real. I was overjoyed when we reached the playground near the dam. It
was the first time that I saw such a big vast area with swing, see- saw, toy
train, merry-go-round and a lot of place to run and many things to play with.
The merry-go-round had little wooden horses
to sit on, which would go faster and higher as it moves. The guys put me on a
horse and I felt that it was not steady. But they told me to hold it tight and
not to worry. It started rotating and still I wasn't confident about the horse
which was turning to each side. As it caught speed, I lost my balance and was
thrown to the ground.
I was a child who'd never show out any
pain or any emotions, remained calm with a kerchief tied around my wrist by my
teacher. I was almost fainting of pain and when I was a bit better I saw all
the other kids happily sitting on a toy train. A train that's so small and yet
runs: it was too much for me to believe. I thought they are waiting for me,
till I heard my teachers told me that it’s better for me not to go for the
ride. Suddenly when the tiny train moved on the little rails, I thought I have
come to a magical world, but I could not be the part of that world. It was one
of the worst hurt that my heart ever received!
Then I saw all my friends waving at me
from the train as it moved and I was hit by the saddest reality that I missed
the chance of riding in that magic train. No words, no tears, only I could feel
my heart breaking and my head twisting; not because of my broken wrist, but
because of my broken dream of riding on that magic train with my friends. But I
was silent about everything and no one knew how much my body and heart ached.
We were back at the boarding school and it
was after two months that someone noticed that my wrist was twisted a bit. My
parents came and took me to the hospital and the X-ray showed that a bone was
broken and got stuck to the other. I had to undergo a surgery and bear the
irritation of the plaster of Paris and weight of the sling on my neck and the
incapacity to use that hand for anything. Still I was silent. After two months,
we went back to the hospital to remove the plaster. One guy took a big scissor
and inserted it through the plaster. I felt the scissors which pricked me and I
told that man apparently drunk, that it will cut my flesh. He laughed at me and
told me that he can’t cut it without the scissors touching me; but knew that
the scissors have wounded me. Somehow the thick plaster had to be removed and
we saw a bleeding one inch wound and the wrinkled skin. The doctor put a few
sutures and I bore everything quietly.
As an adult, I did many of the things
which I missed doing my childhood; but I didn’t have a way to become a child
and the toy train ride would never come true. I used to tell about my biggest
loss in all my ages and stages of my life. I hated the merry-go-round and
thought of the toy train as a dream that’s never going to happen.
My husband was the person who listened to
this story whenever I narrated to others. The narration would bring tears whenever
I say ‘the train moved on the rails without taking me and I was watching and
when my friends waved me bye!’ Nothing and no one could take me back to my
childhood or put me on the toy train!
One day as I was sobbing at the end of the
story, my husband asked me; ‘You missed the ride, right?’ Yes’, I said
hopelessly. Then he said; ‘you can still take a ride in the toy train at the lakeside?’
So, my husband took two tickets from the counter and I got into the train with
my little son and went on the toy train at Lausanne, Switzerland, where we
lived those days. I took my seat and I felt like a little girl and both of us
waved bye to my husband who didn't want to take a ride, but wanted to see our
happiness. The train took us in the streets of Lausanne I was the happiest kid
on the train! After the long ride, we got out of the toy train and my heart was
healed. Never again I cried when I narrated the story; but I end it with a
smile of gratitude to God and my husband.
I understood that day that life is a continuous
story and any missed pages can be written again or write something else to make
the story going. And if nothing is possible, something else will be written by
God through someone, which will complete the story and make it more beautiful
than we could ever imagine!
