Hyderabad Children's Aid Society post continued
As you can see it was hard to post just a few pictures from The Hyderabad Children's Aid Society. David and I spent a considerable time talking about our reactions to the Home. While we had visited a number of schools that feed and educate very poor children on this trip and earlier trips, neither of us had ever been to an orphanage. Our preconceived ideas vanished as we entered the large, neatly tended compound which had been donated by the founders of the Home 65 years ago. Here is a link if you care to know more about the very interesting history of the Home:Hyderabad Children's Aid SocietyShutting out the chaos and cacophony of the city outside the tall white stucco walls, we entered a place of tranquility and peace, shaded from the relentless sun by mature trees. After being warmly greeted by the school's administrators we were shown into a large gathering room to watch the daily prayer. Seeing the collection of children, hair neatly combed, bright eyes, scrubbed faces, standing straight and tall in their freshly ironed uniforms, we both realized that this could be any school of upper middle class children anywhere in the world. These could be any of our children. At the end of prayers the children, with the help of teachers, take turns reading aloud the front page of the daily paper.Having read a bit of the history of the place I wasn't surprised by the spacious grounds and orderly class rooms, and spotlessly maintained common rooms. What did surprise me was the tender warmth and affection the children received from each member of the staff, and how the children responded in kind. Some children were shy, some outgoing, but each one gave us a genuine smile as we passed by. This seemed more like home and less a Home - with lots of kids and enough loving moms to go around.Make no mistake - this is a place and rules and expectations that they will be obeyed. A look or stern word is enough to quiet a class room or remind a lagging boy or girl to resume his or her work. The children are polite and respectful, shaking hands, proudly announcing their names and calling me 'Sister' (not in the religious sense, but in the family sense). I was glad they didn't consider the other option - 'Auntie' - which is given to older women. But David had absolutely no problem being addressed as 'Uncle'. We had the opportunity to introduce ourselves to every child, shake hands and tell each how happy we were to be there and how we loved Sister Mary. I asked if I might take a photo of the children to show to Mary Ann's friends back in Boston, and they responded enthusiastically.
