द इंडियन बॉय/The Indian Boy

The Indian Boy
From the moment at the airport when the Indian boy
Touched my feet, his eyes wide with fear, I began to realise
I would never again see the world with the same eyes
Responsibility for someone’s total trust does not come free
In another culture and another world it was difficult to see
How to have him live a western life and not compromise
The values and beliefs of the region of his birth
That of the diverse people one chances upon
Of all those millions who populate the earth
This would be the one that Karma would decree
“This is your son; this one life is your responsibility”
All trust, determination, and belief have proved their worth
A member of the family added to the two of us at last
One who from the first brought many hours of joy
Resonating against all odds – a bond from the distant past
This boy born in Darjeeling in Kanchenjunga’s holy shade
He can never know what a difference to our lives he made.

Surprise and consternation from friends and family
Changed to acceptance and happy familiarity
As day by day the Indian boy changed our lives
We began to see the world around us with new eyes
The flavours and aromas of the Himalaya our staple food
First thing to go was the use of forks and knives
Western plates were an experience he thought good
The words and phrases that became accepted things
To be used forever: “flower cabbage, take the dogs on strings”
Pool noodles used as aids to swim, he floated in the sea
Christmas Mass in the townships, decorating the tree
Walks on the mountain, “Coca-cola” water in the dam
Trekking with work groups, finding friends in the market stalls
A trip to KZN - so many Indians and mostly South African!
The local Indian Radio Station, ignored for almost a year
Was suddenly the only music delighting his ear!
A trek in the mountains, days in a caravan
“Dad’s” illness behind us, the death of his favourite pet
Through sorrow and in joy life was made magical indeed
Filling the hours with new experiences it was easy to forget
And we laughed, shared so many things and gave little heed
To Time’s inexorable annihilation of each brave new day
And ever closer comes the time the Indian Boy must go away.

The past week I’ve been thinking of the Indian Boy
Child of Karma already twenty nine
The knife has now slowly begun to turn
In my heart as I know he must soon return
To the land I love so dearly, a kaleidoscope country
Of colours, aromas and sounds all chanting a divine chorus
The mother country of the world, she holds us in her soul
I started to put this into words when he had been here but a year
But found that all the things I would say would be those I most fear
I wrote and rewrote these words a hundred times since
But each time I began it was only sorrow I could find
And I’d scrub the words and push the subject from my mind.
How many times in the past two years
Have I tried to face the facts and face my fears?
But always the chasm was too deep,
I’d try and write but could not myself convince
To put on paper all the undiluted joy
Brought into our lives by the Indian Boy.
But the knife was turned and, in doing so, struck the heart
Circumstance intervened, crisis came and soon we must part
The halcyon days, as I knew they must, have ended
All the times I said I was prepared – I find I just pretended.