A Puncher Boy...

He barely reached up to my hips but managed to take out the front wheel of my bike in less than 2 minutes.

I wonder if could do the same, considering I’m some sort of an engineer. He is 10 yrs old & has been working for 2 yrs from 3pm till 8.In the morning he attends school. His pay, a meager 900 Rs for the whole month.

I earn about 11 times as much as he does, working almost the same number of hours.

I ask him if he has got interest in studies, & with a 70mm smile, he replies in affirmative. His mother died 2yrs back, his face expressions absolutely impassive when he says the same. His father is a Rickshaw-puller who tells him to study and learn some trade side-by-side.

In our part of the country, child labour was supposedly banned (excuse me for using the wrong verb), child labour is banned. But I encounter these things in routine. My degree, my skills & other traits which, at times, are praised by the Big-Wigs of our city, look a mere illusion in front of the 10yr old. He faces everything boldly & is not reluctant to admit what he goes through in his daily life. A year back he used to earn 300 Rs a month. One of my friend gets 4 times as much as pocket-money in a month plus some extra bucks which he manages to get from his mother after making her ‘Senti’ with his usual talks.

Said a great author once, In ‘capitalism’ man exploits man, in ‘socialism’ the reverse is true. This talk of helping the poor, removing poverty, opposing child-labour & taking steps to make the lives of street-urchins humane, all sounds like a big-fucking-monotonous lie.

How many of us have donated money in charity in the last 1 yr??(& how many times),but most of us did visit the temple & offered sweets to the local priests after getting placed in big MNC’s,more out of obligation than willingness.

“ho gaya, 1 puncher tha. chalo fit kar dun isse”,he says. Both of us are sweating. It's 42 degrees. I go inside my house & drink water from a chilled bottle. I realize that the little boy would also be craving for cold water. I pour it in a glass & offer him. He gulps it, bottoms up.

Most of us forget to do the same, although we do offer water to any guest visiting our place, difference in social strata, I suppose.It’s a hypocritical society that we live in & I’m its not-so-proud, as-of-now- helpless part. But I will continue to do my little contributions. When I drop him back to his shop, I think of offering some extra money. But then I decide, I won’t hurt his self-respect by offering a small amount.

Ohh..., I almost got myself killed, a girl in a yellow-Lancer with gogs on. She passes a smile while gesturing with her hand to say sorry. These smiles, I tell you, they can melt many a heart.

I suddenly realize, it’s my sister’s birthday, I have booked a cake. Its cost, well, a little more than one-third of that boys monthly salary.