Things are not usually the way they look. Poverty in our country is not just facts and figures, it is more than that. It is a tragedy, it is a perpetual engine, it is a hopeless sight, it is a never ending misery, it is a criticism of great heritage of our country, but apart from all these, it is unity, it is a challenge and it is a dream.
On my way to Faridabad to my sister’s house on an inter- state DTC bus, I had occupied a window seat to the right. There is a place on the way called as Badarpur Border, as it borders the states of Delhi and Haryana. I was excited in the hope of meeting my 3 months old niece, whom I loved a lot. It is always fun and pleasure at meeting someone so small and sweet. With her in my mind all the time, I had no time to notice the happenings around me.
At the Badarpur Border, a 7-8 year old boy, his name I do not know, stepped onto the bus, with a steel bucket in his hand and started yelling out for people to buy water, 200 ml packets for one rupee each. Off course, he was poor, or else he would not do such a job and rather go to school. His clothes were dirty as if he had not changed them for weeks. His skin was fried to black in the scorching sun and a closer look would reveal at least ten layers of unwashed sweat layers that cushioned his skin nothing but fresh air. His miserable fate was so evident that everyone was at once focused on to him. But, this is India. This was a routine and just after a split second, everyone was back to what they were up to. The boy could sell only two packets because everyone knew that this water was not clean and healthy. The conductor of the bus was infuriated at him and scolded him off the bus, because these children do not buy tickets. The boy landed on the road from a semi-moving bus and gone.
I had no time to think of him again. I quickly turned to the thoughts of my niece and turned to my window when another view jolted me. It was of a woman, scarcely dressed, with wrinkles on her face and body moving from everywhere to everywhere. She was holding a baby of about a year old. The baby was a lot cleaner and cuter, but in her arms, it was not clear whether it was a boy or a girl. They were begging at the red light. The fear that woman had in his eyes for her child and its future had been carefully covered by the emotions of hunger and thirst and above all poverty. Looking at her for a good 5 seconds, my eyes began to get heavier. Not that I was crying, I was away from the sea of emotions a great deal, but something heavy seemed to have landed at the bottom of my heart. And it was very difficult to lift. Taking my eyes off her, I looked that there were more, now entering the bus. I glanced at the conductor, as if asking to stop them, but he was busy giving tickets. One of those woman plus child systems came to my seat and spread her arm in hope. I did not know why did she come to me, there were so many others sitting around me, but I thought that with years of expertise, they would have devised a method of finding the weak ones, who are touched by their misery. I looked in to her eyes and for a split second, I considered giving her a rupee coin, but at the back of my mind, I knew that these people won’t get what I will give them. They will handle it over to their mafia, the don what makes them beg. I had learnt about them in an NSS event last year and so, the final decision I made was of not giving her anything. I expressed it by turning my face away and by that time, the conductor had come back to the business of scolding them away. She was gone to.
The bus surged ahead. The border was gone. It was the beautiful Mathura road. With the things I had just seen, thinking of my niece now seemed a difficult task. I was constantly reminded of that woman and the child and the boy. I thought that despite being an iitian and studying in the best college of the country, there is so little I can do to make a difference, to help these people in need and bring them their share of joy and contentment. They live in hostile conditions, in an isolated world and there is nothing I can do for them. The only thing I can do is to love my niece, go back from holidays to IIT, study well and get a job or pursue higher education and then settle down. None of it involves anything like helping these people and this something that hurts me. With all the technology and development around, I think that our goal will be left unachieved if even a single such a person still exists who has to beg and ask for favors.
On my way to Faridabad to my sister’s house on an inter- state DTC bus, I had occupied a window seat to the right. There is a place on the way called as Badarpur Border, as it borders the states of Delhi and Haryana. I was excited in the hope of meeting my 3 months old niece, whom I loved a lot. It is always fun and pleasure at meeting someone so small and sweet. With her in my mind all the time, I had no time to notice the happenings around me.
At the Badarpur Border, a 7-8 year old boy, his name I do not know, stepped onto the bus, with a steel bucket in his hand and started yelling out for people to buy water, 200 ml packets for one rupee each. Off course, he was poor, or else he would not do such a job and rather go to school. His clothes were dirty as if he had not changed them for weeks. His skin was fried to black in the scorching sun and a closer look would reveal at least ten layers of unwashed sweat layers that cushioned his skin nothing but fresh air. His miserable fate was so evident that everyone was at once focused on to him. But, this is India. This was a routine and just after a split second, everyone was back to what they were up to. The boy could sell only two packets because everyone knew that this water was not clean and healthy. The conductor of the bus was infuriated at him and scolded him off the bus, because these children do not buy tickets. The boy landed on the road from a semi-moving bus and gone.
I had no time to think of him again. I quickly turned to the thoughts of my niece and turned to my window when another view jolted me. It was of a woman, scarcely dressed, with wrinkles on her face and body moving from everywhere to everywhere. She was holding a baby of about a year old. The baby was a lot cleaner and cuter, but in her arms, it was not clear whether it was a boy or a girl. They were begging at the red light. The fear that woman had in his eyes for her child and its future had been carefully covered by the emotions of hunger and thirst and above all poverty. Looking at her for a good 5 seconds, my eyes began to get heavier. Not that I was crying, I was away from the sea of emotions a great deal, but something heavy seemed to have landed at the bottom of my heart. And it was very difficult to lift. Taking my eyes off her, I looked that there were more, now entering the bus. I glanced at the conductor, as if asking to stop them, but he was busy giving tickets. One of those woman plus child systems came to my seat and spread her arm in hope. I did not know why did she come to me, there were so many others sitting around me, but I thought that with years of expertise, they would have devised a method of finding the weak ones, who are touched by their misery. I looked in to her eyes and for a split second, I considered giving her a rupee coin, but at the back of my mind, I knew that these people won’t get what I will give them. They will handle it over to their mafia, the don what makes them beg. I had learnt about them in an NSS event last year and so, the final decision I made was of not giving her anything. I expressed it by turning my face away and by that time, the conductor had come back to the business of scolding them away. She was gone to.
The bus surged ahead. The border was gone. It was the beautiful Mathura road. With the things I had just seen, thinking of my niece now seemed a difficult task. I was constantly reminded of that woman and the child and the boy. I thought that despite being an iitian and studying in the best college of the country, there is so little I can do to make a difference, to help these people in need and bring them their share of joy and contentment. They live in hostile conditions, in an isolated world and there is nothing I can do for them. The only thing I can do is to love my niece, go back from holidays to IIT, study well and get a job or pursue higher education and then settle down. None of it involves anything like helping these people and this something that hurts me. With all the technology and development around, I think that our goal will be left unachieved if even a single such a person still exists who has to beg and ask for favors.
Comments
Post a Comment