India was not always bad. There were celebrations, like anything else. When it was time for children to leave to go with their families, huge parties would be thrown. There was usually huge stuffed animals and fancy toys. It was only on special occasions.
During Holy, everyone from school and the orphanage would gather to celebrate. I considered it one of the best holidays, ever. Nobody worried about anything. All you needed to concern yourself with was not turning purple from water colors being sprayed
I still remember the smell of violet on my clothes from that day.
Diwali was even more incredible. We were allowed to play with fireworks, with adult supervision, of course. I tried to shoot my firework to the moon. I had big dreams. Being as young and innocent, the moon was my friend. I felt as if it was trying to tell me something. I never understood what, so I followed it as it followed me.
Some days, we'd get candy. For me, I behaved well enough to get it. You would only get candy if you washed your hands. The "dean" of the orphanage always checked ours before dinner. If they weren't clean, she'd either give you a disappointing glare or a slight hit on the palm. It did not hurt. On one random night, they gave us gummy bears. I stuck them to the wall in the "kids room", so I could eat them later. I was never the brightest.
In the evening, sometimes, we got to choose what candy we wanted. I first was introduced to hard candy in the orphanage. It was small with a red wrapper. It must've been really awesome because I wanted more. Besides candy, we got Kulfi. There was sort of a distinct smell to it. The taste was mostly like frozen yogurt with a hint of ice cream.
One day, there was a huge event going on. The aunties were kneading dough. They made these assortments that were specifically shaped. I remember having a soft piece of a cake-like dessert. It was the shape of a rhombus. The aunties were working super hard that day. Flour was literally, EVERYWHERE. My hands were covered in it.
(Motorcycle is up next)
YOU ARE READING
WHEN THE MOON TOUCHED THE RIVER
Non-FictionEveryone has lived somewhere for a year, two years, or even their whole life. Everyone has a story to tell. This one's mine. From being a kid in the orphanage of India, to a kid who moved to the other side of the world, life raises questions for hi...
