Plight

It was a usual sunny afternoon in December. The yellow sun was tardily altering its hue to white. The lukewarm rays were comforting the earth. And I was spending my time in a train running at around seventy kmph, which can always be considered awesome by Indian norms. A bunch of sixty chirpy students that included me as well was coming back from an audacious "industrial" trip, better known as an enjoyment trip, from Goa. Each one of the sixty students had a saga of his own. And the degree of enjoyment of each one of us at those tingling Goa beaches could be clearly read on our faces. Few were not satisfied with their trip and had plenty to complain about while others considered it as a lifetime experience. The students were apprizing each other of their night outs at beaches, their heroics with rented bikes, their stares at topless ladies and what not.

Rare glimpses of photogenic valleys and mountains were drawing our attention and we were prompted to click few snaps with those charming backgrounds. But a dark boy, whose soul was barely ten years old, had no urge left in his heart to praise the beauty of nature. His starvation had, probably, overshadowed his delicate feelings. He was busy picking up empty mineral water bottles and cleaning the green surface of the moving train with his thin, tiny palms. Every time he entered a compartment, the passengers gave him a tough, long look just to make sure that the cursed boy was not carrying away their precious luggage with himself. After his satisfactory cleansing job, he visited the compartments again, this time with the desire that people would bless him with few coins, just enough to feed him. But, he was, probably, hoping against hope. Every time he showed his bent, empty hands, he was greeted with nods of heads, avoidance of eye contact, shrugs of shoulders, and sometimes, rough, rude speeches. But the poor boy never showed any emotion on his face. He had, probably, got used to that treatment. It was amazing how hard people were trying to avoid looking into the eyes of that innocent boy. They knew they could not dare to say "no" looking directly at his face. After his departure from each compartment, the passengers had had a sigh of relief knowing that they had saved their valuable single rupee coins and they even had plenty of statements to make about the alarming increment in the number of beggars in that part of the world and how the beggar-gangs worked to earn money. We spend hundreds of rupees to watch a movie and thousands of rupees to present gifts to our loved ones but we always hesitate to pull out a coin from our wallet to feed a starving child.

The boy moved on his quest for people who could satisfy his needs. My eyes were following his every movement, his every expression. The absence of lines on his palms made me feel that someone above had forgotten to develop his fate. The child, who could have served as the source of envy in different walks of life for some of the rich children, was undone by forces beyond his command. The age at which a normal child finds himself playing with toys, that boy was busy cleaning the dust below people's feet. In the end, the boy managed to earn just three coins and those coins were never enough to suppress his hunger. I thought I could understand his every pain, his every bother. I slowly moved towards him and started gazing him. The boy looked restless and unsatisfied. But he had no one around him who could register his complain. Even his God had defied him. I, in order to help him, forwarded a ten rupee note towards him. He smiled, took the note from me and said- "Nahin saahab, yeh aap rakh lo. Main apne liye khud kamaaunga", forwarding that note towards me. My eyes were moist and had a wide smile on my face. I was astonished by his self-confidence, eagerness to work for himself and the way in which he managed a smile in adverse conditions. His one golden sentence certainly taught me a thing or two. I couldn't dare to ask him anything. I slowly moved back to my seat and wished him all success in his life.