Gita
ByHundreds of lights set off the stalls, packed with coloured spices, veg and brass hardware, lining the narrow alleys of Ujjain. It was a historical town near the heart of India, crammed with ancient temples bordering the sacred river. Inching forward through the oncoming cars, motorbikes, packed auto rickshaws, wobbly bicycles and wandering pedestrians we nudged gently past cows, scattered piglets and were ignored by goats reaching for plants in crevices.
Forewarned of our arrival the grey haired doctor, with his stethoscope badge of office, was standing in the dark hospital yard next to three cows which had settled down for the night. The young woman we’d come to visit, let’s call her Prya, was mentally retarded, had been brutally gang raped and abandoned helpless on the filthy streets. Now she was nine months pregnant, very frightened and about to give birth. Only hours before, the hospital had called the Ashram and they had immediately offered to take her in. It was the Ashram we’d come to Ujjain to visit, so we diverted to the hospital.
As well as providing a sanctuary to children with cerebral palsy and mental retardation the Ashram also gave shelter to homeless people and abandoned children. When rescued from the streets some people were crippled by old age, others were chronically ill with open sores crawling with maggots and a few suffered from leprosy. Others, like Prya were mentally ill and in serious trouble.
Having seen Prya was OK and made arrangements for her and her baby, Rajeev, the Ashram Manager took us on to the Ashram, deep in the countryside. Low lighting caught the sleeping forms of people crowded into basic rooms. Some curled on thin floor mats whilst others slept under mosquito nets on coir mattresses.
After touring the Ashram late at night we settled exhausted into our own beds, on the roof. Rajeev assured us that the light wind would keep the mosquitoes away. He was partly right. In the morning we met Sudir Bhai Goyal, the charismatic founder of the Ashram, who had been inspired by the work of Mother Teresa. His welcome was effusive, garlanding us with flowers and wafting incense as a blessing. Enthusiastically, he explained the work of the Ashram and we chatted to the staff, met many of the 350 residents including the children. One lovely gentle lady, now 105 years old had been a friend of Ghandi and remembered him in his climactic years.
Margaret was in her element, encouraging the musicians and joining in the energetic dancing of the residents who couldn’t resist the rhythm of the drums. In the bakery, women crouched on the floor mixing and forming chapattis, handing them to two men toiling by an open fire to bake them. Here she met a deaf girl who was absolutely delighted to have a conversation in sign language. We formed the impression that not many of the staff could use sign language and wondered about the isolation that intelligent girl was suffering.
Whilst chatting to volunteers helping children with cerebral palsy we were delighted when Rajeev told us that Prya had given birth without complications and was on her way to start a new life in the care of the Ashram with her new baby. Without that sanctuary Prya’s life on the streets would precarious at best and the life of the baby, in the care of a psychotic mother, would be short and brutal.
Reflecting on all we had seen and relaxing over herbal tea, Sudir Bhai Goyal joined us beaming from ear to ear. In his arms he cradled Prya’s newly born baby. Gently he laid the baby in Margaret’s arms and asked her to name her. Delighted with Margaret’s suggestion he intoned the Hindu naming ceremony. Then he invited Margaret to say a few words and she recited parts of the Church of Scotland Christening service. So Gita was named, in the Ashram in her home town of Ujjain, amongst friends.
