A few months back, I noticed a man performing acrobatic kicks in the parking lot. Metres from my workplace (a car wash), he seemed to revel in knocking down imaginary villains. The parking lot attendant who loves his job. I found out his name was Johnny and that he was Christian. Every time we crossed paths, he'd wave and smile. Some people, you know instinctively, have experienced unnatural pain. They demonstrate exceptional depth of personality, while smiling through life.
After a hectic 10-hour day at work, I sent my team home. My car needed a clean, just as I was about to start, Johnny walked up and said hello. I sensed something was on his mind. The last employee to leave told me that Johnny had been struggling with alcohol and that I should have a chat with him.
I asked him why he was resorting to alcohol. What followed was an unfolding story that is tragic, grief-stricken and yet... full of hope and restoration. I can relate only some of the things this man shared with me. He was married and had twins - two girls, premature babies. He lost them both because he couldn't afford the medical attention they needed to survive. His father-in-law took the babies off life support, placed the bodies in a sack and buried them. When Johnny found out, he says he was mad enough to kill the man. He found the bodies, washed them and gave them a proper burial, planting a tree to mark the spot. His father-in-law intervened because Johnny was contemplating selling his kidney to cover the cost of Rs. 60,000 to keep his babies on life support for a month.
His wife, she left him and moved to another village. Unable to bear the grief of loss, Johnny moved to Hyderabad from his village. He found work as an extra in Telugu films and works nights as a parking attendant. Without family and friends in this city, he struggled to make ends meet, so now he sleeps in the parking lot. One night, drunk and enamoured by a woman, he wrote her name on his arm, then took a blade and cut himself on the writing. He showed me the scar, the mark a woman called Radhika inspired on his already wounded heart. She was not impressed at him for shedding blood and slapped him for acting silly. Recently, he was ambushed on the street close by and attacked by four men. They beat him with a metal rod and a stick.
Reduced by grief, this man's one desire is to marry a good woman, get a decent job and live surrounded by the sounds of his own children. His anger towards God is tempered with respect and the acceptance that our grief is usually caused by our rebellion. We want and desire things that are not God. Idols which take the place of God in our life.
When we finally said good night, I pictured in my mind that this man was still practicing his acrobatic kicks. In a moment of accepting that his babies are in a better place, he kicked the demons of his past into the dark of the night.
After a hectic 10-hour day at work, I sent my team home. My car needed a clean, just as I was about to start, Johnny walked up and said hello. I sensed something was on his mind. The last employee to leave told me that Johnny had been struggling with alcohol and that I should have a chat with him.
I asked him why he was resorting to alcohol. What followed was an unfolding story that is tragic, grief-stricken and yet... full of hope and restoration. I can relate only some of the things this man shared with me. He was married and had twins - two girls, premature babies. He lost them both because he couldn't afford the medical attention they needed to survive. His father-in-law took the babies off life support, placed the bodies in a sack and buried them. When Johnny found out, he says he was mad enough to kill the man. He found the bodies, washed them and gave them a proper burial, planting a tree to mark the spot. His father-in-law intervened because Johnny was contemplating selling his kidney to cover the cost of Rs. 60,000 to keep his babies on life support for a month.
His wife, she left him and moved to another village. Unable to bear the grief of loss, Johnny moved to Hyderabad from his village. He found work as an extra in Telugu films and works nights as a parking attendant. Without family and friends in this city, he struggled to make ends meet, so now he sleeps in the parking lot. One night, drunk and enamoured by a woman, he wrote her name on his arm, then took a blade and cut himself on the writing. He showed me the scar, the mark a woman called Radhika inspired on his already wounded heart. She was not impressed at him for shedding blood and slapped him for acting silly. Recently, he was ambushed on the street close by and attacked by four men. They beat him with a metal rod and a stick.
Reduced by grief, this man's one desire is to marry a good woman, get a decent job and live surrounded by the sounds of his own children. His anger towards God is tempered with respect and the acceptance that our grief is usually caused by our rebellion. We want and desire things that are not God. Idols which take the place of God in our life.
When we finally said good night, I pictured in my mind that this man was still practicing his acrobatic kicks. In a moment of accepting that his babies are in a better place, he kicked the demons of his past into the dark of the night.