A few days ago, I wrote about a little boy Golu, age 8 or 10, whom I came to know recently. (https://jasbirchatterjeephotoblog.wordpress.com/2016/06/30/a-tomato-god/)
During our last meeting, he seemed to be happy and cheerful in spite of the terrible odds stacked against him. But I haven’t seen him since then. I am worried about him and I wonder if he is okay.
On Friday this week, 8 July 2016, I tried to find some clue about his whereabouts from the idols he had placed so lovingly under the tree near the temple close to my house. I got a shock of my life when I reached there. The idols were in a very sorry condition . Some of them had broken feet and were lying helplessly on their backs…It was a very depressing sight, All kinds of frightful thoughts crowded around in my mind. Maybe Golu was thrashed heavily by abusive parents; maybe he was maimed and forced into begging by a gang of criminals; maybe he’s turned into a drug addict, etc, etc.
I was not in the best of moods that day and the sight of these broken Gods only intensified my feelings of helplessness. A person whose own future depends on the whims and fancies of rich and arrogant people can’t do much for another human being. This was the thought that hit my soul with a resounding slap that day.
But life has go on and you have to remain afloat…I consoled myself with the thought that beyond these man-made Gods, there is another divine power, which is supreme, omnipotent, and universal. This higher God will take care of Golu…
The photos are given below.
All fairy tales have some amount of human reality. And sometimes real stories sound like fairy tales…
A few months ago, while I was walking towards my home after work, I saw a small group of 3 little boys picking up something from the diyas (earthen lamps) people had placed below a tree outside a temple while praying. My first thought was that perhaps they were setting them right to ensure that they burn properly. But my next thought was that little boys don’t care much about God and prayers and are generally more interested in playing boisterous games. Feeling rather curious, I walked up to them to take a closer look.
“What are you doing with these diyas?” I asked them.
“Sometimes they contain coins. People leave them here while praying and we pick them up.
With my curiosity quenched, I turned and continued walking towards my home, which was just a few yards away. At least, they were not stealing, I reasoned with myself. But I wondered why people didn’t just give the coins to people who need them instead of leaving them like this and making their hard lives much harder.
Last week, however, the same spot below the tree had a completely different look. A few new idols stood there on a lovely, brightly embroidered rectangular table cover. The diyas too were much more in number and seemed to be burning much more brightly than ever before. One more thing was different. There were no sweets, which was rather unusual, because Indian Gods are normally offered only sweets. Well, that day, a little priest had given them a little, bright red tomato! It looked quite cute and I was quite impressed. I couldn’t resist the temptation of clicking some photos.
I was suddenly startled by a squeal of delight. I turned around. It was one of those three boys I had noticed a few months ago.
“Where have these idols come from?”
“I brought them.”
“And what about these new diyas, the tablecloth, and the tomato?”
“I bought the tablecloth for thirty rupees and the other things I brought from home.”
“This looks very good.”
The boy smiled. I looked closely at his face. He looked happy and innocent with his big, black eyes.
“Do you live here? What is your house number?
“We don’t have any house. We stay in the park over there.”
I was quite taken aback with his answer and I pursued further.
“Where are your Mummy and Papa?”
“They are over there below the Metro Bridge. Sometimes we sleep here in the park and sometimes below the bridge.”
“Oh, my God, that’s rather sad. But where have you come from? You must have had some home before coming here.”
“Yes, we did. We have come from Haryana.”
“Don’t you go to school?”
“What about food? What do you eat?”
“Someone comes to the bridge everyday and gives us food. That’s how we manage.”
“What’s your name?”
His matter-of-fact way of talking made my eyes moist and I wondered why God makes little, helpless children face uncertain lives like these. I hope and pray that this child has a better future ahead…
Here are some more pics…
One Sunday morning, Prithvi (name changed), wearing lungi, shirt, and running shoes, rode into our colony on a bicycle. He had 2 simian companions, Krishna (a male) and Radha (a female). They were here to earn their bread and butter for that day…
The day held out great promise, since it was a Sunday and their main audience, the little children, were at home, enjoying their weekly off. As soon as he saw a group of children playing outside a house, he decided that that was where he would begin their day’s work.
He parked his bicycle near that spot and sat down. He took out his damru and began playing it with his one free hand, the other holding on to the chained couple. Krishna and Radha couple took their cue from him and, with a dazed look in their eyes, obediently performed all the acrobatic and mimicry acts as per his instructions. Radha’s performance was limited to only those acts where a female character was also required, like when Krishna gets married and his bride refuses to leave her parents’ home. All the performances were very smooth without any hiccup whatsoever.
It was pretty obvious that Prithvi was a very good trainer of monkeys. Not once did he raise his voice or hit them.
A little group of adults also gathered around the performers. They were not aware that a wild monkey sitting on one of the balconies was also part of the audience!
Ten minutes later, the show ended. Some children gave money and others gave bananas. A few children requested for a repeat performance. The man obliged and Krishna repeated some of his tricks while Radha peeped from behind Prithvi’s back.
Finally, when it was all over, Prithvi got up and slowly walked away with his bicycle. Radha jumped and perched herself on the rear seat while Krishna continued to walk.
At that very moment, the wild monkey came down from the balcony and began following them. Suddenly, he stopped and watched wistfully, lost in thought, as their figures receded away and disappeared.
It was a very painful moment…
Freedom is such a relative thing, isn’t it? It depends on what you want freedom from. If there were no hunger, everyone would be free and no one would be a slave…
While travelling in the ladies compartment of the Delhi Metro on 12 September 2015, I came across 2 women. They sat opposite to each other and had a clinging toddler in their laps with constantly changing moods. When I observed them individually, they did not look very extraordinary. But when I compared them in my mind, the differences between them seemed to be so striking that I just couldn’t resist taking their pictures on the sly. The 2 women seemed to have originated from 2 different planets. I am sharing these pics with you here.
While one woman had only one child to worry about, the other woman had two more little, naughty children sitting beside her, constantly fidgeting, trying to grab her attention. The 3 kids were most probably born in quick succession, one after the other. No sooner was one baby out, another one must have taken its place! Did she get any time to recover from the previous pregnancy? I doubt it and I guess the 4th one was already growing inside her. It was obvious that she was from a world where they thought the best way to keep a woman is bare-footed in winter and pregnant in summer! The middle child’s nose was running, but she took no notice of it. The youngest one kept her preoccupied. Somewhere during the journey, she had to breastfeed the youngest one. Phew! What an epitome of patience!
As the metro glided on the rails, I tried to imagine the kind of lives these women must be leading. The first woman and her child were obviously leading better lives. They were loved and respected as human beings and their lives had value to their loved ones. The other woman, the less fortunate one, was obviously leading a very tough life; her family was probably very poor; but worse than poverty, their lives did not have much value and she had no say in matters concerning her body; her husband perhaps looked at her as just another pot to plant his seeds in; there was also no awareness about hygiene and family planning.
When I looked around, I found that there were several other families in a similar state. I guess they were all part of a big group heading to some congregation at some place. One can well imagine what kind of people these unfortunate children would turn into; they will be uneducated and uncouth and will not be of any value for this huge nation of ours.
When we look at the bigger picture, I think population explosion is the mother of all of our problems. Our politicians must put into place a system of incentives and disincentives for controlling population. This is more important than all the ‘yojnas’ put together till date. Once this is done, there would be no need for reservations. When people are fewer, each person gets a bigger share of the benefits of the progress made by a country, as you can see from this example. Most important of all, men who have no respect for women and treat their bodies like door mats must be dealt with harshly.
In a country like India, which is already so heavily populated, no family ought to have more than one kid; if they need more, they should adopt.