HE IS A SPECIAL CHILD

I remember that day clearly. I had a bad day at office. I was tired both physically and mentally and I was bitter because I had a long journey home.

On a certain station, Atharva and his mom entered our compartment. Atharva looked like he was 7 or 8 years old.  The compartment was packed and I wouldn’t have noticed the pair if it wasn’t for his unruly behaviour.

At first, I thought he hit a woman on her hand, but dismissed the idea as weird. Then I say him raise a hand to touch the woman again. His mother was quick enough to stop him this time. She apologetically looked at the other women and said, “I am sorry but he is a special child.”

For the rest of the journey, my focus was only on Atharva and his mom. Slowly the crowd started thinning. Atharva was unruly at times and quiet at other.

Two stations before I was to get down, he suddenly came and sat down next to me. My gaze didn’t leave his sight. Then quiet suddenly he pounced on my bag and pulled it towards himself. At this point, his mom asked him to give it back to me. He replied in what sounded like ‘gibberish.’ She caught his hand and I moved my bag to the other side. Everything seemed fine for half a minute but then suddenly Atharva pushed me in his rage. His mother again caught him and apologetically said, “I am sorry but he is a special child.”

“It’s OK,” I replied, but frankly, I was a bit shaken myself.

I got up to stand near the train door.  Atharva and his mom also came towards the exit. He was clearly not in the mood to get down and was protesting at the top of his voice.  His mom picked him up, but his objections continued.

We three got down when the station came and I quickly walked away in the opposite direction.

Throughout my walk home and sometimes even now I think about Atharva and his mom. I had wanted to ask her about his disorder, but didn’t.  I wonder what he was suffering from. I should have asked!

~ A Story By Fizaah Faiyaz