Raju .. The Performer

Travelling with a Child Labor

The train wheeled in the station and halted at platform no 3. The drowsing passengers slowly stirred and started moving in random orders. Women clad in burqas rushed towards their compartment with their army of children following them. Few fell but got up and gathered speed to match the steps of their mothers. Sari clad mothers too rushed towards the train. The door of the compartment jammed. Slangs were exchanged. Filthy ‘F’ words reverberated in the compartment. Few decent looking villagers (women) covered their faces with the end of their scarves. Slowly the crowd made some treaty and battling women boarded the train munching words of local abuse. Three people stood outside on the platform patiently. A middle aged woman draped in green sari accompanied by two kids. One was tall and maybe he had an age of 8. The other was a small child of two and a half feet. He seemed four. They had a fourth member with them. It was a tabla. The train whistled and jerked. People filling water bottles on the platform rushed back to the compartments.  Then the mother took the tabla and patted the boys to rush. They all hurried and got in the coach. I thought it queer for a mother to stand on the platform when the train was waiting and board it only when it was about to leave. The machine gathered speed. I got up to my side upper berth. I saw the lady adjust her dress. She squatted on the floor and kept the tabla on her lap. She smiled at the younger kid and kissed him. Then she thumped the tabla. The resonance filled the compartment. The boys took position and started performing tricks. The younger of the two kids had moustache drawn with kohl. He sprang on his feet took an iron ring from his mother and twisted himself inside. Later the two children formed a human wheel and rolled themselves along the compartment floor. When the whole performance was over the little lad took out his cap and walked from berth to berth and expected some return for their performance. Many of my co-passengers ignored them. A family scolded him away from their seat. Another lady stroked his hair, took out a big chocolate and handed it to him along with some coins. He grinned and moved ahead. A mother asked her little daughter to thank this little performer. He approached my berth. I held out a crumpled ten rupee note and asked him his name. He was reluctant in telling his name. I pulled back the money; he looked at me his bright eyes shone. The little lips gave way to a sound and a lisp came out, “Laju.” I got it, his name was Raju. Raju took his collection and handed it to his mother. The lady tied the money in a knot of her sari’s border and gave him the chocolate. Raju divided it in three parts. He forcibly inserted one in his reluctant mother’s mouth, gave the other to his brother and took the smallest part for himself. The train reached Unnao and they stepped on the platform. Slowly they disappeared in the crowd. Another little messiah is seen as a volunteer child labor. His poverty is the cause. He travels and entertains people of letters and he is letter less.

There are millions who suffer daily across streets around you. Spare a thought for them. You can find ways to make them smile. A small step is beautiful. Give a smile, a kind word or just a polite look. This will be a small step for a journey towards fighting this social curse of child labor

Mail your suggestions to ling2liang@gmail.com. Your ideas can help change the world, Spare a moment contribute a THOUGHT for a child labor.