Singing through life

Music has forged an unlikely bond between a visually impaired social worker and his gifted protégé

April 08, 2016 04:41 pm | Updated October 18, 2016 03:11 pm IST

P.Thomas (right), has been taking care of Senthil Nathan, a visually impaired and autistic teenager who has a natural talent for singing. Photo.M. Moorthy

P.Thomas (right), has been taking care of Senthil Nathan, a visually impaired and autistic teenager who has a natural talent for singing. Photo.M. Moorthy

Right opposite the Tiruchi airport lives a boy whose voice soars with the breeze that blows through his heart. Senthil Nathan shot to fame as a non-contesting participant of Vijay TV’s Super Singer talent show in 2014. Two years after the cameras shifted their focus, the visually impaired and autistic 16-year-old still revels in the world that music has opened up to him.

But to talk about Senthil, one must first talk about P. Thomas, the visually impaired social worker who has been taking care of the youngster since he was five years old.

“Let’s listen to Senthil sing first,” says Thomas, as he combs out his flowing mane with his fingers outside the Lubra Service Centre for the Blind and Disabled in Periyar Street, Kamaraj Nagar.

As Senthil clasps his foster father’s hand and belts out two songs - Darling, Darling from the 1978 Tamil film Priya in a falsetto that convincingly sounds like P. Suseela’s voice, and Mere Sapnon Ki Rani from the 1969 Hindi hit Aradhana , in a male tenor - the inmates of the blind home gather around, tapping their feet and smiling.

Then a bell rings, and everyone disperses until lunch time.

Tough childhood

At the tiny cupboard-filled cubicle that is Thomas’s office, there are people milling outside the door, and nearly everyone wants to speak to ‘Appa’ personally. There’s a brother who has been drinking away his earnings and failing to support his younger sister who is staying at the shelter for the past two years; a senior school student who wants exam fees in ten-rupee notes for the afternoon session; two visitors who want to donate money for a meal in memory of their friend. And then there is Senthil, who’d like a biscuit before he starts singing again.

As he attends to the business of life, Thomas narrates his own story.

A native of Kadavoor, the young Thomas lost his eyesight when he was six.

“My father fought with my mother and forcibly brought me to Tiruchi to work as a beggar,” says Mr. Thomas. “From the age of six to nine, I used to beg for alms at hotels, on buses and trains. One day, I was spotted by a Roman Catholic missionary who took me to the Mercy Home for disabled children.” A grisly reminder of his rough living is his misshapen left leg, that got twisted after a road accident. “I couldn’t see where I was going, and got hit by a vehicle,” he says.

Thomas was 24 when he left the shelter. “I had missed everything in life: school, parents and friends. When I left the orphanage, I decided that I’d try and do something to help others like me,” he recalls.

After a brief spell of selling lottery tickets, Thomas fell in love with a visually impaired young woman whose family didn’t approve of the match. “We were from different religious and economic backgrounds, but we were quite determined to start our life together,” says Thomas. “With all the death threats hanging over our heads, it was no wonder our marriage was solemnised under police protection,” he adds.

Thomas and his wife Mary Prabha’s dream project, the Lubra Blind Home, came into being in 1986. The couple later started a shelter for homeless senior citizens and children of single parents, dipping into Prabha’s savings and donations from well-wishers.

Currently, there are 100 blind inmates at the home, 60 single parents and children and some 30-40 senior citizens who are being looked after by Thomas and his small team of helpers.

They support themselves with the earnings of the Rajapaarvai orchestra, started by the couple three decades ago, consisting of 20 visually impaired singers and musicians.

“My wife passed away recently due to a heart attack. She was the one who spotted Senthil’s talent for singing,” says Thomas.

Natural talent

Senthil is thought to be originally from a place near Thoothukudi, and was initially looked after by a poor person in Cuddalore who had found the abandoned child on the beach. “When we were touring Cuddalore, social workers handed over Senthil Nathan to us, because they felt we could give him some stability,” says Thomas. “The Senthil you see today is vastly different from the child who came to us. We had to consult many doctors to see how he could be trained to lead as normal a life as possible. He is still not independent – from feeding to personal hygiene, he needs our help. But Senthil’s musical talent makes it all worth the effort,” he adds.

Besides an ability to switch from male to female voice, Senthil also knows nearly 100 film songs and can sing in five languages with ease. He also has memorised Thirukkural couplets and can mimic sounds of musical instruments so well that they sound like the real thing.

The TV exposure in 2014 led to an outpouring of support – most of it financial. “We no longer charge fees for Senthil Nathan’s singing, because after Super Singer , we were able to collect Rs. 7 lakhs in donations from the public,” says Thomas. “We created a trust fund with this amount to educate 700 Scheduled Caste children in slum areas. One teacher has been appointed for every group of 30 students, and is being paid Rs. 1000 for the free classes,” says Thomas. “Senthil may not be aware of it, but he is helping all these under-privileged children to lay the foundation for a better future.”

The Rajapaarvai orchestra’s earnings are now split between funding the classes and the homes.

There are difficult days when Thomas doesn’t have enough money for the next meal. “We need at least Rs. 5,500 for each mealtime. When the donations don’t come, we ask nearby restaurants to supply us food on credit,” he says. “If our orchestra is engaged more often, we can support ourselves comfortably.”

Thomas stays with the rest of the inmates in the Lubra Blind Home, and has trained his two adopted daughters to assist him. “I feel happy when I see what we have achieved,” he says. “We have given solace to people rejected by society.

0 / 0
Sign in to unlock member-only benefits!
  • Access 10 free stories every month
  • Save stories to read later
  • Access to comment on every story
  • Sign-up/manage your newsletter subscriptions with a single click
  • Get notified by email for early access to discounts & offers on our products
Sign in

Comments

Comments have to be in English, and in full sentences. They cannot be abusive or personal. Please abide by our community guidelines for posting your comments.

We have migrated to a new commenting platform. If you are already a registered user of The Hindu and logged in, you may continue to engage with our articles. If you do not have an account please register and login to post comments. Users can access their older comments by logging into their accounts on Vuukle.