States: Orissa: Nobody's Child

The cyclones leaves hundreds of children orphaned and homeless. Witht the existing orphanages full and adoption almost unheard of in the state, uncertainty stares them in the face.

Mitti Das, 7 With no trace of her hut or family, she scours Padampur for food and affection. When the sun sets, she slides into a neighbours home and curls up for a lonely night's sleep.
Mitti Das, 7

With no trace of her hut or family, she scours Padampur for food and affection. When the sun sets, she slides into a neighbours home and curls up for a lonely night's sleep

From dawn to dusk, they are just like any other children: boisterous and full of life. Not more than six, Poornima is a pintsized live wire, darting up and down the dirt tracks of the village. A little older, Mamata is quieter but not quiet enough to stay indoors. Throughout the day, she is outside playing games that children of her age normally do. And the angel-faced Susmita, all of three and wearing nothing but dirty knickers, has an impish smile permanently etched on her face.

It's only at sunset, when darkness descends and the village of Badabellary in Ersama block of coastal Orissa's Jagatsinghpur district goes to sleep, that a change silently overtakes the trio. While the rest of the children head home into the warm embrace of their parents, Poornima begins to weep. Mamata sulks in a corner while Susmita wails incessantly, refusing to either eat or drink. The nights, they find, are too dark, too lonely without their parents.

Scattered across the outback of Orissa, there are hundreds like them orphaned by last month's killer cyclone. Of all the telltale signs of the catastrophe that has befallen the state, these little faces present the most haunting images.

Poornima may not have belonged to a well-to-do family but she never went hungry either. Life seemed perfect at nearby Jhatibari under Jopa gram panchayat in the loving proximity of her mother and father. Till the cyclone struck and three successive waves from the sea gobbled up their small roadside hut and washed away everyone at home. Poornima survived because she was at a relative's house in Badabellary on that fateful night. She's still here and when it's nightfall, she insists on going back home. Worse, when she's told there's no home left, no family to go back to, she cannot fathom the uncertainty that lies ahead of her.

Like the other children trapped similarly. In Badabellary, Jhatibari, Padmapur, Sankha, Pitapani, Sahadabedi, Ambiki, Nagari, Sarabapatho and Ramtara in Ersama block and in Somnathpur in Astarang block of Puri district. As Tarun Kanti Mishra, secretary of the state Women and Child Development Department, says, "There are orphans and more orphans everywhere."

Children in great numbers have died too, washed away along with their parents. But as one of Poornima's neighbours asks, "Are the children who survived any luckier?"

Indeed, the future of orphans like Susmita is bleak. The cyclone killed all in her family and for the time being she is staying with her uncle. But for how long? Even the uncle, Santosh Maity, is not very sure. A marginal farmer with a meagre income, he has a big family of his own to feed. "It isn't easy to take on more responsibility," he admits. This being the case, there is every chance that Susmita could find herself out on the roads, sooner or later.

Mitti Das, 7, of Padmapur had to jostle for space in the small hut in which she lived with parents, Sekhar and Solo, and elder sister Lata. With no trace of the hut and her family, the entire village is home now as she scours for food and affection. Emergency relief teams ensure she gets to eat but affection is something she can't seem to find. As the sun sets, she slides into a neighbour's home and curls up for a cold and lonely night.

Mitti is missing her family. But the tragedy is that she is too young to even comprehend the disaster that's struck her. Often, she is found climbing on the mound where her hut once stood and staring forlornly. "Perhaps she is searching for her loved ones," ventures Damodar Behera, a neighbour.

Unlike Mitti, Debendra Kandi, 12, realises what it means to be an orphan in the big bad world. His fishermen parents had big plans for him and Debendra had been going to a local school. "Without my parents, how do I live," he questions haltingly as tears well up in his expressive eyes. "I loved to study science in school. But they had not taught me yet what cyclones were." If he knew, maybe, just maybe, he could have asked his parents to exercise greater caution on the fateful night. Unmindful of the warnings aired over the radio, they had stayed behind in the hut. Debendra and his younger brother, Pramod, survived only because they happened to hang on to a floating tree.

"The orphans are our greatest source of concern," explains Sailobala Behera of Vasundhara, a Cuttack-based NGO that shelters orphans. "For it is they who are going to bear the scar of the cyclone for the rest of their lives."

The fears are not unfounded. As long as emergency relief is on and the hundreds of free kitchens that have sprung up in the interiors continue to feed the hungry mouths, the orphans are assured of at least one square meal a day. But once the outpouring of concern dies out, only question marks await the orphans. Their neighbours are unlikely to have time for them since they have to rebuild their own lives, having lost homes and family members. And there is little to guarantee that relatives will look after the parentless youngsters for long.

On the other hand, there is a possibility that the orphans will be used as pawns by greedy relations to grab land that their parents may have left behind or to corner the compensation to be paid by the Government. "After that, they may be left in the lurch," points out Sumanta Kumar Kar, director of SOS Village in Bhubaneswar. Debendra, for instance, could find himself thrown out by his brother-in-law who has taken him under his care for the time being. And Susmita could run the risk of being disowned by the same uncle to whom she sticks like glue at the moment. Similar fates could await the rest: Narmada Maity, the 14-year-old girl whose parents have left a two-acre field and Sulochana Kandi, 12, who lost her parents along with two brothers and is now working as a domestic help.

Most of the orphans are aged between three and 15 and finding adoptive parents for them would be near impossible. The concept of adoption in fact is not very familiar in Orissa -- only 65 children were adopted in the state last year. "Under the circumstances, the children will have to be put under the care of the orphanages," points out Mishra.

Even that's not going to be easy. For one, the administration has no authority to take in the children without their consent. Worse, the 80-odd government-run orphanages in the state with a total intake capacity of 5,500 are already chock-a-block. They suffer from a resource crunch, with the government grant per child a measly Rs 300 per month.

Despite the odds, however, the SOS Village managed to take away 78 children from their villages immediately after the cyclone and bring them under its care. "Under the circumstances, institutionalised care is the best bet," says Kar. Maybe. But the question is how many of them will be able to get even that.

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