I happend to visit a home for mentally ill women as part of the charity drive organized at school with my students. The home set in the midst of a farm on the outskirts of the city was seren and beautiful. It was a 2- story building with rooms, administrative office and staff quarters for a few dedicated staff who live with the inmates.

These destitutes were not smart enough to keep themselves clean. Some of them could not communicate, some could not comprehend even when we spoke to them. It made me wonder what trauma they had faced in their lives – that shocked them and left them like dead zombies.

Each room had 7-8 inmate of different age groups. Some rooms had steel cot with blankets and other rooms were bare with a few beddings. It was sad to see so many women as destitute in a country with multitude of women goddess. Their life was pathetic. Each one of them had only two or three night gowns which they wore for 2 or 3 days at a stretch as they had nothing to change to. All their heads were shaved as it was difficult to get them to comb their hair.

I heard from the staff that some cry everyday for a child they had lost, some remember that they had a family, some scream in terror and run around the campus begging for help from an imaginary assailant. Life is so not fair.

One thing that I noticed during my visit was they all loved dancing – raunchy moves for all item numbers. It slowly dawned in me that they would have been rescued from pimps or they would have escaped from prostitution Centres.

The inmates of the home were picked up from the bus stand or railway station by the police. They were taken to hospitals for a check-up, they are certified to be mentally ill and then they are handed over to these homes. No one comes claiming to meet them. They have no visitors. So the home becomes their sanctuary.

These women are trained in gardening and poultry farming. They love the task they do and are very protective of their plants or hens. Conversation with them is limited to food and songs they like. Some keep repeating the food they like every 10 minutes. They love visitors – people who visit them, mingle with them, hold their hands, talk to them, dance with them and laugh at their jokes. But who has the time?

Sending donations as cash by clicking the mouse or sending old, re-used materials are more easier these days. So they get plenty of sponsors for material things but what they yearn most is the human touch.

A visit to such a home shook me out of my reverie – a reverie where I used to take things for granted. It slowly dawned in me that life can be worse and I am blessed to have a family – a family that is very supportive and kind. Let me value what I have.