I have 15 husbands and thirty children,” says Thresiamma. “Indira Gandhi knew me and Mammooty is my father.”
Ebin comes to the mike and says, “I have a computer in my pocket.” Then he takes out a small metal case. James says, “I am ready to get married. Is there anybody willing to marry me?”
The audience in the hall smiles and claps. All of them are inmates of Snehamandiram at Padamugham in district Idukki in Kerala, a home for the intellectually disabled. The residents, as young as 21 and as old as 98, are participating in an entertainment programme following their weekly prayer meeting.
“These people have been abandoned by their families,” says Snehamandiram founder V C Raju, 52. “Nobody is there to care for them.”
It is the local populace, police and social service organisations who have brought these men and women to the Centre. One of the residents has come from as far away as Delhi. Some good Samaritan put the Hindi-speaking Nitesh on a train. He reached Kochi where the police sent him to Snehamanidram.
“Nitesh has been with us for the past 12 years,” says Raju. As he talks, Murali, an inmate, comes up to him. Playfully, Raju pulls out a one-rupee coin from his pocket. Murali looks glum and walks away. Then Raju takes out a ten-rupee note and calls him back. Murali is gleeful, runs back and hugs Raju. “Even Murali knows there is no value for a rupee coin these days,” smiles Raju.
There are 280 intellectually disabled men and women and 38 abandoned children here. Some children are orphans and a few born of intellectually disabled mothers. Many women were sexually abused and got pregnant. “Traumatised, they lost their mental equilibrium,” says Raju. All the kids are enrolled in nearby schools.
To pay the school fees and the other expenses, the Centre mostly depends on donations. “Several people in the district are working abroad as nurses,” says Raju. “They set aside some money for us every month. Many local people also provide funds.”
Raju, who dropped out of school after Class 10, felt an inner calling to start a home for such people while giving alms to an intellectually challenged man. At that time, he owned a small stationary shop and was struggling to look after his family: wife Shiny and kids Nibin, Neetu and Nivya.
When Raju discussed this idea at home, Shiny vehemently opposed it. “I am a practical person and could not understand why he wanted to do this,” she says. “All I wanted to do was look after my family.” In the end, they arrived at a compromise. Shiny would run the shop and Raju follow his dream.
In March 1995, Raju bought a small plot of land with a donation from his sister, Rosamma Thankachan, who was working as a nurse in Rome. He began with a shed, 7 kg rice and an aged patient. Later, more people arrived. Now the shed has been replaced by two buildings with dormitories, halls, bathrooms and canteens, apart from a playing ground.
To run the Centre efficiently, there are about 20 employees apart from volunteers. One volunteer is a retired head nurse from Mumbai. “Her aim is to spend the rest of her life here,” he says.
Raju will also be spending the rest of his life looking after the residents, helped by his son Nibin, who holds an MBA degree, and his wife Shiny. “Much later, I realised what a noble work Raju was doing and offered my support,” says Shiny.
Raju’s noble work has been receiving appreciation. Recently, he won the ‘Social Service Award-2013’, instituted by Samakalika Malayalam Vaarika, a sister publication of The New Indian Express and received a cash prize of Rs 1 lakh.