Ciao, boy!
“Ciao, Sir!” This is how Ramjatan used to greet me almost every day, in my room. He came also last week, before I left to Bodhgaya school.
“Ciao, Sir!”
“Ciao, boy. Are you happy?” I asked. His eyes shined, as usual, and he answered, smiling, “Yes, sir!” Then, the ritual second question, “Did you eat?”
I received the usual answer, “No, sir!”
“Look inside the refrigerator if you can find something”
There was always “something” inside my refrigerator for children like Ramjatan, who lived in a poor village house, with a numerous family members, always racing among them to reach for first the small amount of dal and ciapati prepared by their over busy mother for lunch or dinner. Many times it happened that Ramjatan lost … the race and arrived too late for his share of dal and ciapati. So, he had to leave the house empty stomach.
I never saw anger inside him when this happened. “What can I do? I just asked my mother, after retuning from school, why she did not save my lunch!”
“What was her reply?”
“Your elder brothers have eaten it!”
This happened at least two, three times a week. It was at that time that the boy used to knock at my door, smiling. He never asked directly for food. I have to use my intuition to understand his hidden thought. Food! The proof that he was not acting out a game, was his physical aspect. He was tall and extremely thin. In spite his not strong body, he was a hard worker. I was sympathetic to him also because of his sense of duty and responsibility. Every day he used to get up early in the morning, around four o’ clock, and ride his bicycle till Varanasi, that is 12 km far from Sarnath. Once there, he used to collect a parcel of magazines, daily English and Hindi newspapers, and sell them to his customers. He was getting one rupee for each newspaper. I used to joke with him, ”Did you sell two hundred newspapers today? You are getting a lot of money… more than my teachers!”
“Come on, Sir!” was his answer, follow by his habitual smile of an adolescent still innocent. I never asked how he was using the money he was getting, but I suppose he was supporting his numerous family and, may be, he was saving something dreaming to have a room only for him.
It was really his dream, “One room where I can study, change my clothes without making it in front of twelve people… You know, we all are sleeping together, in one room: mother, father, sisters, brothers… In night, I cannot study, because there is no light or it is too dim. How can I pass my exams?”
From the last two years he was requesting me to accept him in the hostel. It was like a mantra for him, ”Please, when can I come?” “Please, Sir, when can I come?”
I never said no, but I tried to postpone the decision due to the implications of that important step. In fact, a resident boy or girl is totally dependent on the administration of the school that has the legal (civil and penal) responsibility for whatever will happen to the guests. I am particularly careful and cautious in the case of local children. I always fear an irrational reaction from the parents, in case something goes wrong.
The boy was with us since his childhood. I do not remember how many years… like the village mothers who do not remember the birthday of their children. It is as if they have been always there! No beginning no end!
Last year, he came to my room and he said that he could not get admission in our school on time. “I have to go to another school!”
I knew that it was not true. It was a normal crisis of the students who are studying here for many years. After some years, they feel the desire to have new experience, to meet new people and friends in a new environment. That’s how he got admission in Mahabody Intercollege, in Sarnath. He was studying in class IX.
For few months I did not see him any more.
He came one evening with a sad face. His shining eyes were gone. “What’s the matter” He was shy. He had not courage to express his deep feeling. He did this after few days. “I do not like the new school.”
“Why?”
“They beat me?”
“Who beats you?”
“The teachers… The math teachers, with the elbow of his arm… on my back…or with the stick on my hands…”
I did not comment. I knew what was in his mind. I thought that he should take full responsibility of his actions and decisions. I left him on the fry pad for few weeks, then I sent him the safe-boat…”If you like, you can come back!”
He could not believe it! We forced our rules and we put him back to his class, with his old classmates.
I never forget his face with the expression of gratitude and commotion.
Few weeks… and his smile and shining eyes were again back in his face. Till Wednesday night, the last day of holy Nawratry, when he decided to go to Varanasi, with two friends, to celebrate the conclusion of the nine days of fasting and prayers. It was night and they decided to take a bath in the holy river.
Ramjatan was excited. “Let’s me go a bit far from the shore!” he said. And he never returned. The holy Mother Ganga brought him from the darkness of his congested village room to a place where there is an unending Clear Light, always shining in the Infinite space made of peace, love and wisdom. We all are sure that in the murky water of that fateful night he recognized that wonderful Light, as he was taught for many days, in class, just before his last journey.
We are confident that he recognized that magical Light, that definitely frees from the sufferings of this Sansara, because it was the same light that he had in his heart and eyes.
“Ciao, boy!”
No beginning no end!
In risposta
Caro Valentino,
nel dolore del tuo" Ciao, boy" per l' avventurato Ramjatan, ho riavverito il mio "Ciao Sumit", sul mio blog, all' impatto della notizia della sua fine.
Auspico che anche la tua fede, più forte che la mia di volenteroso cercatore di Dio, in quel Ciao abbia pronunciato un Arrivederci, chissà quando, nel cielo purissimo di tutte le fedi, e che ti sia di conforto la speranza di ritrovare alla fine di questi giorni Ramjatan in Dio, ritrovandovi nella Sua " Clear Light" la luce del cuore e degli occhi del tuo amico-ragazzo, confidenti nel " vago avvenir", che " in mente" aveva, "his smile and his shining eyes" che la tua bellissima memoria rimpiange tanto- come nel mio ricordo è lo strazio che si riapre, ogni volta che vi rivedo Sumit felice e ridente.
No beginning, no end!...
Secondo la lettera di Paolo agli Efesini,( 1,4-14)), secondo l'auspicio buddista " che tutti noi possiamo conoscere la guarigione al di là delle idee di vita e di morte , ed essere ciò che siamo da sempre : ciò che precede la nascita e sopravvive alla morte" ( Frank Ostaseski Saper accompagnare)?
Ma in tali parole non comprendo una rivelazione, non so risvegliarmi a un'illuminazione.
Personalmente non so auspicare che una salvezza individuale, e personale, in unione con Dio, in unione nel Suo seno con ogni persona e cosa amata.
( E quale Navaratri è stata la fateful night of Ramjatan?)
Love
Odorico
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