The Magical Hands (dedicated to Mother Teresa)

Sitting in the corner of my cell, the devilish eye seems to have struck my whole being. They say, “He who helps himself is always helped by God.”

Seeing the sores and lesions on my skin all over my hands, an emptiness penetrates my heart too difficult to fathom. These hands, that once were so beautiful, always eager to be of service to the less privileged or anyone who needed them, have become the reason of my isolation.

1953 it was. I came across a lady by the name, ‘Mother Teresa’. She seemed a rather fragile, soft-hearted sister adorned in a white sari with blue stripe. Besides this, I knew nothing about this rather known figure to every passer-by.

“You seem unusual, contented”, she broke the ice.

“Pardon?” I exclaimed quite astonished.

“You look happy”, she reaffirmed her statement.

Smiling with all my teeth, “What do you do, Sister?” I enquired of her being.

“I’m a servant of God; born to serve the poor.” “Our mission is to care for the hungry, the naked, the homeless, the crippled, the blind, the lepers, all those people who feel unwanted, unloved, uncared for throughout society, people who have become a burden to the society and are shunned by everyone”, she replied with a gleam in her eyes.

“Interesting and great”, I stared at her in amusement.

Time flew as the casual talk converted to a lifelong conversation. I returned amusingly thrilled.

On my way back home that very day, I sighted an old lady in dilapidated condition. The on-lookers kept their gait on as if they all were blind. I overheard them say, “She’s a leper and you needn’t go near her. She’s doomed”. I had no time to get angry at those inhuman creatures and walked straight to the old lady across the road.

“Aunty”, I addressed her. She didn’t say a word and burst into tears.

I took her by the hand and we marched together far away from the maddening crowd to ‘Kalighat: The Home of The Pure Heart’. I handed her over to the sisters there citing my serendipity with Mother Teresa. She was taken care of. I felt a true sense of self for the first time.

Life resumed at jet speed. Juggling between studies, work and painting, I found not much time for my health. My social life took a drastic U turn. I suddenly became occupied only with myself.

Days turned into months and months into years. I kept ignoring the symptoms thinking them of mere allergies as I had mostly been prone to.

Words spread around at my workplace and everywhere I went. I was asked to resign. I protested of having taken medication and that there was no harm. It wasn’t contagious. I was regular with my antibiotics and visited my doctors often. Not a soul was ready to listen.

It is 1957 today, exactly 4 years after my encounter with Mother Teresa. Her words echo in my ears,

“Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless.”

            A ‘kind word’ is all I’m longing to hear and a ‘leper’ is what I’m being addressed at and with it, comes the dejection, the desolation. All alone and never been lonely before, I take out my knife to scrape the lesions from my hands.

            I can hear a knock on my door. Amused and scared simultaneously, I get up to peep through the keyhole. A familiar white sari brings me to tears as I open my front door.

            Mother Teresa embraces me tightly to not let me go.

            “These hands are magical. The old lady you brought to my home passed away 6 hours back because of old age. She narrated how you had owned her when everyone neglected her and how she came to know about your condition a few days back. You saved a life. Your hands gave her a new life. 

            PRAISE YOUR KINDNESS; PRAISE HER GRATITUDE”, she recites calmly.

            “Kalighat owes you and needs more people like you. So here, I ask of you to accompany me and join our service”, she continues appreciatively.

            I just nod. My gloomy days are over. A new hope outshines. Brushing off all my fears and rejections away, I get ready to follow the lady whose kind words not only touch my heart but also bring a smile on my face. She smiles back at me. I feel replenished to start everything all over again. On our way, we just look at each other with meaningful eyes, not speaking a word. Sometimes, silence does it all.

            We are received with a warm welcome by the sisters in uniform. At Kalighat, I become Sister Annie. A new beginning, a new life in service to God and mankind, I take a vow with my MAGICAL HANDS.