The orphanage

One of our translators is named Pavinder Singh. He teachers at the American School here, Miri Piri Academy. He is a tailor and with a small circle of friends he is helping to manage an orphanage. He is a very sweet and very devoted guy. He has been inviting some of us to have diner at his house and to visit the orphanage. Finally, yesterday, Guru Terath Kaur and I had lunch at his house and then went to visit the orphanage. There are about 90 children, mostly girls, aged from 2-16, living on the outskirts of Amritsar.

Although their stories are difficult and their circumstances meager at best; they were delightful. They were getting ready to eat when we arrived, sitting on the ground in rows, chanting as the food was served. The older ones served the younger ones. We visited with some of the adults who were supervising.

After diner, the kids went to some playground equipment to play. I sat to watch them, trying not to become the entertainment. That lasted until I took out my camera to start taking pictures. I got a few off before they noticed then they started to pose. Their initial shyness wearing off, they began to clamor for more pictures, wanting to see their own image on the digital screen. Then it was a mob scene; each one trying to see better. Then they started finding their friends, wanting to have a picture taken holding their friends hands. Then I couldn’t take any more pictures.

We started a new game. One who spoke a little English, taught me how to say “What is your name?” “My name is …” So I began to greet each girl (the boys came around later; they were more shy.) “Tua da nam qi hai?” “Sat Siri Akal …..” Mera nam Gurucharan Singh hai.” One after the other they would get it together enough to be greeted then burst into laughter, then hurry back to be greeted again. The other adults were looking on incredulous. Everyone was laughing. It was hysterical.

There was one girl who kept shouting in my ear (everyone was mobbed around). Not knowing what else to do, I put my hand on my ear, letting out a painful moaning sound, then took my other hand and rapidly opening and closing it (like an alligator shadow puppet – fingers on thumb.), I moved my hand from right to left while making the sound of a barking dog. Again, everyone burst into laughter. “Do it again!!!” “Do it again!!!” “Do it again!!!” “Do it again!!!” This became the new game. When I grew tired of this (I was always the first to wear out.) I had them do it. Then we all became dogs, then elephants, then cats, cows and on and on. I was laughing so hard. They were the most responsive audience I have ever scene. I could have done anything and it would have been entertaining to them.

I was hoarse from laughing and coughing (my cold had started). They wanted to show us their gurudwara. They took us inside. We all bowed. I asked them to play Kirtan. One got on the harmonium and all started singing loudly about the blessings of God and Guru.

In the midst of all this, Pavinder was trying to get a doctor out for one of the girls and he was conducting a meeting with his “circle” of concerned adults. I didn’t think we would ever get out of there. Finally we got the driver and got into the car. The kids were chanting “Uncle-ji; uncle-ji; uncle-ji” (beloved uncle). I could hardly stand it.

How many orphanages like that are there around the world? They don’t have adequate clothes or shoes or education or supervision or housing or security or prospects or medical care. I can hardly stand it. God bless Pavinder and his circle of friends.