King Kong was his name. I don’t know whether he was christened King Kong or people just called him King Kong because of his wrestling skills. His life started on the street. Street children do not have names. They have no identity. You call them anything, and they become one. Some of them do not even know who brought them into this world. How they arrived on the street. Sometimes they, the lucky ones, get picked up and find shelter in a home where they spend rest of their lives.
In a system where foster care was a foreign concept most street children never saw a home. I don’t know when King Kong became a member of our family. I was too young then. Today all that I remember of him is that he was my own homegrown wrestler, who I would play with.
A young man of extraordinary physique, King Kong was kind of an all rounder. He would do odd jobs, work in our farm, cook for us and even baby sit me and my siblings. All of that with a smile always adorning his face. When King Kong entered our family, I must have been a toddler, or perhaps I wasn’t even born.
When I reached school going age we moved to the city. King Kong stayed in our farm. On holidays we would visit our farm and find King Kong always at our service. In one of those visits, I didn’t find him. He was gone.
“Where’s King Kong?” I was too young and insignificant to ask and get an answer to my question.
A few years passed by. Time made it easy for me to forget Kong Kong. Children have tremendous capacity to learn and unlearn. King Kong did not exist on my radar screen anymore. He was a past that had faded out of my faculties. I was growing up to learn some of the nuances of life. But, still too young to comprehend the complexities of right and wrong, innocence and guilt, virtue and vice, moral and immoral.
I must have been in 9th or 10th year of my life when my learning took a quantum leap. It all happened within a few moments.
It was a warm afternoon. I was back from school. I stepped out of my home to do things that kids my age did. As I stepped out I saw the silhouette of a handicapped man entering the street sitting on a plank of wood fitted with small coaster wheels. With barely any clothes on his body and both of his legs paralyzed he was using his hands to push his makeshift cart down the street towards me.
“A beggar,” I thought.
“I must get some coins from my mother to give him.” She always had some to spare for the less fortunate mortals, I reasoned.
As I was about to turn around to get the coins, I heard some rumbles:
“Ay ay aa ay.”
The beggar was now closer to me. He was trying to talk to me but his paralytic twisted tongue couldn’t convert his sounds to any meaningful syllables. I looked at his eyes. They were looking at me and telling me that he knows me, and asking me, “how are you doing?
I took another good look at him and a revelation donned on me. I could barely stop my scream.
“OMG! King Kong.”
In a fit of shock, recognition of that homegrown wrestler came in a second, and fright in the next.
I turned around and ran inside my home. Dropped on my bed and could not stop crying. A strong body of a wrestler reduced to an emaciated frame of bone and flesh that had no legs to walk. No tongue to talk. How did this transformation happen?
Oh God is this Your justice? How cruel can life be? I was too young to figure out the answers to all those questions. All that I could do was cry, cry and cry.
When I finally got my senses back, I realized what I had done. King Kong was right in front of me, greeting me, flashing his distorted but distinct smile at me, and all that I did was run away from him.
If this was an average beggar, I would have at least done what my mother always did. But instead, I ran away. I ran away from King Kong? OMG what had I done? Instead of helping a man who was once a part of my life, who took care of me in my early formative years, I dumped him on the street. Did not even acknowledge his greeting. This wasn't how I was brought.
I picked myself up and ran back to the street where I had found him. He wasn’t there. King Kong was gone. I never saw him again. He never gave me a chance to say, “I am sorry.” He left me to live rest of my life with guilt. A 10-year old’s guilt of letting shock and fear overcome his compassion for a dear one in need. A 10-year old's guilt of escaping his own responsibility. A guilt that kept searching for a passage to redemption. I finally found my redemption in ceasing to be an escapist. My redemption was in never running away from adversities. It was in facing calamities head-on. It was in not letting my tears become my weakness. In making those first tears of fear, my last ones.
PS: This is not a fiction. Even the name of the protagonist is original. I lived through this. In fact what my experience was could be any child’s vulnerability to the vagaries of life. But it actually taught me to be as strong as I subsequently became.
Very Emotive !!
i think sometimes when you behave like that in front some one you are shame even if you know him its because society poison our brain with tv and distorted way of education we dont see the person we see the darkness of his surroundings and we judge ,then maybe we realice we where friends before ..... then your have 2 decisions learn from your felling and give a hand to him or ran away in shame and sadness .
Beautiful reconsideration.
@valblomqvist thanks for commenting. The emotions in this story are not negative or poisoned, but one of positive and caring but shock for a few moments. Not knowing what to do and how to react. If they were negative their wouldn't be guilt at all.
darkness dont need to be negative judge does most of the times ..
Please read @spectrumecons comment and you will know what I mean.
I had something really similar in my own life
one friend from my dad he was a model in Ibiza
and he was going out to the best parties and with best woman .
After few year when i grow up i found him living in the street dirty and beging
i ran away i didet want to talk to him in the beginning
but after i realice that was his way i start to talk to him again and try to understand why he end like that so i tried to help him .
Beautiful history that make me think in my past .
Thanks for commenting. As I mentioned in @valblomqvist comment the emotions here aren't of negative, indifference or shame, but positively caring and hoping to do something, but feeling guilty about the lost opportunity because of momentary shock.
yeah its really emotive when you its part of your life some people just need to experience ...
Note: keep on eye on nnajmull he comes to the blog only comment does not resteem or upvote
i think he must be a bot .
he does the same thing in my blog .
Please read @spectrumecons comment and you will know what I mean. Anyway regarding bots and spams I got a new post. Share your thoughts please and help me make my decision on my upvoting strategy :)
That's a very moving story. I can understand why you feel guilt. I can also understand why you ran away. It would have been a tremendous and very unexpected shock. It would have been very easy to get caught up in the emotion and not be able to do what you believe is right.
I am glad that this has made you a stronger person. We cannot turn back the clock but we can build off our experiences to make the world a better place for everyone.
Thank you for sharing this story, I can imagine it would have been difficult to write.
@spectrumecons: Thanks for commenting. The fact that you get the precise essence of emotions involved in the story makes my writing worth it. You can relate to an immature 10-year old's emotional state of extreme shock seeing somebody so close to him in such a horrifying state that he couldn't react in any other way then cry. The child cried because he felt for the man. He cried because he saw an example of extreme injustice. He cried because he was helpless.
thanks for sharing
Upped and restmd bro. Thanks for sharing the story. Keep it up man.
Thanks. Please read my next post on blind voting and let me know your opinion please. Thanks :)
Okay man.
I read the story by heart. Tears come out, really heart broken tropics. Wants to thank for giving shelter to king Kong and don't worried for the end. Should charity for them. Thanks a lot for sharing such a excellent post dear
Thank you for appreciating the post.
Most welcome, It's your pleasure.
thanks for sharing my friend..carry on your activity..
Thanks :)
most welcome my friend..resteemit done your blog...all the best✌✌✌✌
Someday you doing greet job and today greet one my friend.Very nice writing and good post.I waiting for you next post.Keep it up my dear friend.
resteem your post
resteem your post
resteem your post
Thanks :)
Hi,sharon. Recently I am giving you a upvote. I am every time resteem your post.
Crimes make people humiliate. People commit crimes only to fulfill their needs. many person's crime is different. We should leave the crime. Crime does not allow people to live well in life
This story is not about crime my dear. It is about caring, compassion for another human being.
Street children life very difficult.a little can lead to a smille on the children's side.
All of your post are very emotional sharon.You are really good person.Keep it up,I always read your posts.As always,I upvoted and resteemed the post too.
Upvote, comment, resteem done....✌✌✌
This is a powerful story. Thanks for sharing.