My joyride in a toy train!

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!