In early 2000’s, I used to annually attend concerts with my family. In one of these events, my mother asked my sister to take care of me and to firmly hold onto my hand. My sister, who was chatting away with my older cousins somehow forgot amidst the crowd. In the frenzy, I got lost, and was unable to find any of my relatives in the many unknown faces that I kept seeing. With the thought of being lost swirling in my head, I started crying and calling out of my mother. A hazy memory now, I remember making my way backstage, telling (while sobbing) the anchor that I was lost. In a moment’s time, hand-in-hand with the anchor, I made my way to the main stage, where the anchor introduced me and told the crowd that I was lost.
Sitting in the front row, my elder cousin, Tony, instantly recognized me. He, then, got up from his seat, approached the stage and lifted me off the stage to the safety of my mom’s arms. However, time and again, I wonder, what if I was unable to find my way to the stage, what if the anchor hadn’t introduced me and what if my cousin wasn’t seated in the front row. I could have been lost, distanced from my family forever, and in complete misery. As a child, I was very attached to my mother and not being near her would have crushed me. I probably would have been sent to some child care center, where someone would’ve looked after me, and would eventually have made efforts to find my parents. And if my parents would’ve never found me, my life would have completely changed – I would have lost my privileges, my sense of belonging and my safe space. I also would have lost my personality, as grief would have become an all-engulfing emotion. With a shattered mental state, I don’t think I would have been the person I identify myself to be today.
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