Poetic Sensibility

19- Sketchy Joy

        Kiara was sitting at the study table, finishing the sketch she had started a week ago. Her mother sat opposite her and set down the tray with two cups of tea on the table.

"Show me," she said. Kiara turned the notebook upside down to let her mother have a look. She was quite pleased with the sketch herself. She remembered seeing the girl last weekend, when she had gone to a village about 200 kilometers from the city with Kabir. She had mixed feelings about the time she had spent there.

        On their way, Kabir had briefed her about her duties. She was working with him on the presentation. They had to do a little talk on using hybrid seeds that were being provided by the farm aid organization in order to prevent plant diseases and ensure a 100% harvest. Also, they had to highlight the benefits of mixed farming and natural fertilization. He had told her, in quite simple terms, that according to the farmers, any new product in the market meant it was the best and they absolutely had to use it. Since the last 8 months or so, they were using synthetic fertilizers manufactured by a rather reputed company that was doing more harm than good. Once their presentation was over, they could interact with the farmers and the villagers on a more informal basis.

        Kiara felt guilty for being pleased about the fact that she did not personally have to speak to the families of those farmers who had killed themselves. Honestly, how can you possibly console them, she wondered. She knew that they needed help and support; and for now, Kiara was ready to provide that from a safe distance. When they reached there, she couldn't help but notice how comfortable Kabir was. This was his thing, she told herself. And Sarah hadn't seen this side of him yet. Oh she was totally going to love it. He was at home, definitely. The place was stuffy and hot and the journey had covered them in dust and grime but Kabir was glowing with happiness.

        She saw how easy it was for him to converse with the villagers. He was not just polite but positively warm towards them and extremely playful with the children. She told herself that she would try her best to be like him towards the natives. Once their presentation had begun, Kiara had found herself rather relaxed. It was hard work, yes, but it gave her this certain sense of gratification that came when you helped someone and expected nothing in return.

        Soon, after the presentation was over, the questions had begun. Kiara saw him answering all of them in the simplest of terms. She understood how he went about it and soon began answering a few herself. Once that was over, they were asked by the NGO official to convene at one of the village buildings for a lunch with the other volunteers.

"I won't be eating much," Kabir had told her when they were walking towards the building.

"Why not?" Kiara asked, confused.

"Well, I know a family who lives here. I have met and worked with them before. They've invited me for lunch to their hut," he replied.

        Kiara was stunned. The family must have connected with him at a very deep level to extend an invitation like that one. And Kabir must have felt that connection too, to accept it. She was humbled when she thought about how Kabir had overcome his fear around these people who were practically strangers and probably thought of them as the snob-crowd from the cement jungle. She wished she could be like him.

"Do you want to come?" he asked her. "Lalita would be pleased to have you."

        For a moment, Kiara couldn't breathe. She had only begun to feel comfortable around these strangers in such... different surroundings. She quelled that pang of panic and tried to calm herself. Kabir had sensed her distress and he immediately reassured her that it was okay if she didn't want to come. But Kiara didn't feel reassured. She was taking baby steps. She was going out and doing things and talking and meeting strangers. She could do this, she told herself. 

"I'll come," Kiara replied.

        The minute they stepped into the modest hut, her eyes were drawn to the little, diminished figure crouched by the stove. The girl held a straw puppet in one hand and the other was tightly clasped around her mother's tunic. She eyed her and Kabir warily. When she spotted Kiara looking at her, she had blushed and turned away. Even when her mother, who was a pleasant, chatty woman, had sat with them for lunch, the girl had refused to let go of the tunic. As soon as the lunch was over, Kiara had taken out her sketch book and penciled the features of the little girl on a blank page. She committed that fine, pointed jaw, the slightly upturned nose and the long, thick hair to memory. Once Kabir had finished talking to Lalita, her mother, they had said their goodbyes and left. Before leaving, however, Kiara had offered the girl a chocolate from her backpack. The girl, with her big, dewy eyes, had slightly shaken her head. Kiara urged her to take it. The girl looked to her mother who simply nodded. She had walked timidly and taken the chocolate with a tentative smile.

        It was a smile Kiara would never forget. She wondered if that's how Kabir felt. On their journey back, she questioned him about all his experiences.

"It's a new feeling, every time. You can't get used to this," he had said. "You land at their doorstep, bearing all kinds of gifts for them when they expect nothing but the worst. Knowing that you are the reason behind that joy and hope, it's... wonderful."

        Kiara had simply nodded and mulled over his words for the rest of the journey. When she had reached home, she had continued working on the sketch. It had taken her all week but she was happy with the result that now lay in her mum's hands.

"She's so delicate," her mother stated.

"Mmhmm," Kiara replied. She was delicate and shy. And with a little encouragement from her mother, she had stepped forward and taken the chocolate from Kiara. Kabir had talked about how wonderful it felt to help them. How amazing it was to see them smiling. He had mentioned happiness and hope. He had never told her that there would be a lesson to learn.