Journey

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 19; the nineteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The plane was nearing Ninoy Aquino International Airport in Manila, Philippines. Cynthia was telling Danielle, a young girl, “It looks like only recently. It was 15 years back myself and my husband were here on a holiday. We went to nearby places and spent a week at Pearl of the Pacific, Boracay Island. It was a fabulous trip. Back to Manila I expressed a wish to adopt a Filipina child as we were childless. He readily agreed and took me to an adoption centre.”

“I know. It was here you took me into your fold. Daddy had told me that you did not like any of the kids you saw at the adoption centre and that the lady in charge took you instead to a poor woman with four daughters and we are on our way in this journey to find my biological mother,” Danielle said with excitement.

“Oh oh, I never knew Alfred has told you all. We tried to keep the details away from you. Yes, we will go to the adoption centre and find that lady who helped though I am not very hopeful. But at least you would have got the feel of the place where you were born” Cynthia said.

“Did you buy me Mommy?” asked the charming and well educated girl.

“I would not say that I bought you. I helped that poor woman with 2000 dollars that would have done her a lot of good. She was in abject poverty and unable to feed her children. Her husband had deserted her though she was good looking,” Cynthia assured Danielle.

“Mommy...Please do not get upset. I am dying with excitement to see how my mommy would look like and whether I would bear any resemblance to her,” she said animatedly.

When they went, they luckily met the same lady though advanced in years at the centre. When she saw Danielle, she exclaimed “What a beautiful girl. It has been a great blessing for the girl that you adopted her.”

“Can you help us trace her mom? The girl is eager to meet her. She has brought lots of gifts for her and her siblings.” Cynthia told to the woman in a hush.

“I am sorry. The shanties there were demolished and big apartments have come. I do not think you can see her. She must be begging at the church perhaps. Can you identify her? I have a very hazy memory,” she said sadly.

“Oh oh, I remember, I had seen a mole on her chin,” said Cynthia in a whisper while Danielle was looking at the children in the centre.

They went to Quiapo Church in the evening with dim hopes of finding her. Danielle was forlorn and dejected. The smile in her face had faded.

There were lines of poor people on the way to church. Cynthia was watching carefully. The woman was not seen. After going around the church when they came out, Cynthia felt someone tug her from behind. When she turned to look she saw a sickly emaciated woman with sunken eyes and protruding jaw bones and a hair that had never seen dressing for years. She was lying on the ground and it appeared to Cynthia she would not live for even a week. When that beggar woman removed the cloth that covered her face, Cynthia was shocked to see the large pinkish mole on her chin. The dying woman locked eyes with her. There were tears in her eyes. 

There was dramatic silence. The poor woman turned to look at the lady beside Cynthia whose holding her hand. She knew it was her daughter. She could only sob in silence. She can't even hug and kiss her. 

Danielle could only mutter as innocently, ”Poor thing, are there nobody to take care of these poor and sick people?” almost in a whisper.

Cynthia quietly took a wad of several pesos and gave it to the woman saying, “Keep it carefully. Buy some food and dress. This should last you for some time.”

Then she hurriedly took Danielle away from the scene towards the waiting car. 


"Let us hurry, our plane to London is leaving in a couple of hours," she admonished the driver. 

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