54 Isra and Mahesh
[Daya Nivasa, Mulgampola, Kandy] Across the room from me is a boy who is maybe five years old. His eyes, though crossed, are sparkling, and his whole face is lit up in happiness; he has a big smile and his mouth lies open revealing his solitary tooth. He is smiling at me and I am smiling at him. Isra, for it is he, is sitting in a special blue box that has an adjustable back, on his legs are heavy sandbags which are meant to be holding them straight, however his legs have freed themselves from this burdensome constraint and have returned to their naturally twisted condition. Isra’s head is not supported well by his neck and so it rests on his right shoulder – it looks uncomfortable, but this too is its normal position and he shows no sign of being in distress. We have been smiling at each other on and off for the past half an hour: every time I look up he smiles at me and I smile at him. Between Isra and myself there is a strong bond of affection, we have known each other for years and our relationship is very undemanding, we simply love each other and we both feel that that is enough.
I am sitting on a little blue stool, one of a miniature tea-party set, and the reason I don’t go over immediately and pick up Isra so as to give him a great big hug, is because standing between my legs is Mahesh, and he cannot stand without support, for he has little contact with the outside world; he’s not blind or anything, it seems he’s just not able to interpret the sensory information coming to him.
Unlike Isra, Mahesh can talk, though the language he uses is known only to a few: ay yay ay yay yaah, he intones expectantly, and I repeat the phrase to him; ay yah yah, says he, ay yah yah, I agree. Abaar watan – this last is a particularly difficult sentence for Mahesh, but it conveys great meaning and so he says it again. Sometimes when we’re talking like this he lets his voice drop to a whisper, and in reply I put my mouth right next to his ear and whisper back: ay yay ay yay yaah, which makes him laugh so much he’s almost fit to burst.
It maybe that people will laugh at us when we talk together like this, but they’re just not attuned to what we’re saying. Maheshi, as the language is known, is simply a language of love and communion, it is not a conceptual language with all its divisions, and Mahesh himself knows nothing of there being different races and religions and so on, be is free of all that and is therefore able to respond to anyone who takes an interest in him.
That I have friends like these children is a great joy to me, and as I talk with Mahesh I look up once more and there is Isra smiling. This morning the world is n beautiful place and its full of beautiful people, we are all so happy to be alive.