Imagine this picture: two boys in the compartment of a train, one older and taller than the other, both skeleton-like, two bowls in small hands, no shirts on, torn half-pants, broom attached on a thread in the waist which (that is, the broom) they use for swiping the floor of the train. They are begging for money and food. Look at their eyes and you will see no glint of hope in them, not for survival. Yet they are living… with no hope.
At the most he could be six years old, and his brother, whom he carried clasping in his arms, could not be more than three years. Their very sight evoked pity, but many a man and woman, rich and handsome and beautiful, upon casting the first glance at the two boys, turned their eyes and heads in disgust. “Oh, poor creatures,” a woman sighed but not so much as part with a rupee. “Come, come,” her husband called her, “come and sit in the seat when it is empty and leave the poor creatures to their fate.”
What one could not see, however, was the love the older brother shared for his younger one. What obligation had the older one to carry the younger one and look after? He was the older brother, of course, and he knew he was responsible for his younger brother, he knew he had a moral duty here. Is it not wonderful how a six-year-old boy could so well understand his responsibility, while his parents, whoever they maybe, living or dead, have abandoned, even society, that crazy breed, seems merciless.
No doubt, a few good Samaritans are doing whatever they can to help such unfortunate children live good/better lives, but the larger proportion of the society is fine with the tag “human being” and not “being human”.
Copyright © 2015 RAMU DAS
Ramu Das 