They washed and fed him and cleaned his sores. But it was too late. Weakened by so much deprivation, he only lived with them for 48 hours. It was 2 PM when he died and they realised with a shock, that though they were prepared with food, clothing, shelter and medicines, they were not prepared to deal with death.

They had to look for a doctor to certify his death, arrange for a coffin and a place to bury him. And all before dusk. By 9 PM, the coffin was ready and a burial space arranged. But taking him on his last journey was difficult too. The undertakers were too expensive and no one else would take a coffin. Finally, they convinced the owner of a horse cart (or a ‘Jutka) to carry the coffin. It was 11 PM.

The funeral was over by midnight. But the story of Rahim does not end there.

They placed a notice in the paper about his death and his son responded. Rahim was not alone. He had, as old people with dementia sometimes do, wandered away from his family while at the railway station. They had been looking for him ever since.

Paul and Bovas could not reunite the son with the father, but they could assure him that his last hours were spent with people who cared for him, and looked after him as well his own son would have done.

Rahim was only the first. There are many, many such men and women, each with their own story of a life turned to despair through misfortune, who found solace, comfort and sometimes even a new lease of life, through the care and warmth of the institution these two men have built.

There is the story of Kaseenadhan, who was discovered as a ‘bundle of dirty cloth’ by Bovas, in a market, one Sunday morning. He noticed that the bundle moved. Lifting one end, he saw under it, an old man with a huge ulcer on his foot, unable to move, starved and groaning in pain. He was carried to the Home and treated for over 3 years. Today he serves as the watchman at the gate during the day and attends to other residents in his dormitory during the night.

Then there is the story of ...

When asked about their work, Paul and Bovas simply say “All our residents, though picked up as destitutes, become a part of our family and enjoy a sense of belonging. Sharing our lives with those who have no one to call their own, completes life for us”.

Inspired by her yeomen and selfless service for the cause of the underprivileged members of our society, Little Drops, a public charitable trust was conceived in 1991 by two childhood friends driven by a deep sense of burden for the ever increasing number of elderly destitute who are abandoned by their families and left to fend for themselves in the streets of Chennai. Both these childhood friends faced unexpected severe economic deprivation in the formative stage of their lives.

Traversing through life of paucity and denial, the childhood friends when they were able to stand on their own feet dedicated their lives for the cause of the deprived. Thus the birth of Little Drops. Modestly beginning with providing wholesome residential haven including medical and therapeutic care laced with abundant measures of love to 4 elderly destitute, Little Drops currently accommodates over 1000 inmates in 10 different homes mostly in Tamil Nadu and one in Banglore.

This fulfilling journey would have been incomplete without the support and encouragement from socially conscious friends, well-wishers and organisations who are carriers of God’s tender and merciful love and compassion. Kindly view our web page www.forlittledrops.org.

With the ever increasing number of elders being abandoned in the streets and driven to fend for themselves, we are compelled and obliged to expand and augment our capacity. On an average, we receive about 40-45 new admissions while about 20-25 of these inmates become dear to the Almighty every month.

Since our inception in 1992 we have had the privilege of rescuing over 8000 destitute irrespective of cast, creed, religion or gender and provided them a new lease of life refurbished with dignity and self esteem in the sunset years of their lives.