Selling Hope for Differently Abled

The tough path takes a tight ropewalk. Everyone knows that our lives are like those of funambulists. A slight imbalance and we are pushed to the corners of sorrow and regret. When we are in the surplus of our own belongings it is always difficult to fathom the pains of those who have less than us. The incident happened when the Udyog Nagri express left Orai station in U.P for Kanpur. I sat at the corner of my seat. The compartment over flowed with people and we exchanged sweat smells along with the local chitchats. The talk of politics is the general norm for commoners of U.P and every third person can boast to comment good on recent political situation. The whole discussion was involving when I heard the rustle of few chains and leather belts. I turned and saw at the gate of our compartment. There he stood with a bag across his shoulders. A torn shirt, unkempt hair and a shabby trouser adored him. His eyes had the spark of a motivated salesperson. He walked through the crowd. He kept calling for customers. The boy was hardly fourteen and he had the airs of a confident man. He kept attracting passengers using his talk tactics.  I was amused by his adroitness of speech and all my involvement in the political discussion vanished, I turned to see how he managed to sell the chain and belts. A passenger agreed to buy and negotiation followed. The man gave him a fifty-rupee note but instead of taking it, he bent and hinted him to put it in his pocket. Then I tried to peep through the milling crowd in the compartment and see why he did so. What I saw completely shocked me. The boy had both the palms missing. He had two limbs without the appendage required to use it. He was there making and doing business. I was amazed the way he handled his load communicated with fellows around. He smiled and moved ahead whistling. He passed by my seat, he saw me staring at him in amazement. His palms were missing. He held the load in his elbow and whistled, sang and sold belts and chains to earn a living. What a great way to earn a living.  The little chap was an angel who chose to work even in his handicap. He passed few more passengers, and due to the crowd, few of his leather belts slipped. I kept on watching what he would do. This boy had trained his palm-less hand to pick up his wares. He used his finesse to take control of troublesome situation. He was really taking control of his overall situation. The little angel boarded down at Kanpur Central (U.P) to board another train back his route to Orai.  This was a little angel who I think was not selling belts and chains but he was selling hope for  us. 

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

A Marine Drive Monkey Show

Marine Drive 

The little legs walked on the footpath. Rain poured heavily and the boy was wet. He walked in his dark red shorts. He wore a shirt where only two buttons loosely held  the cloth together. The boy held a rope and on the other end of the rope walked his comrade. When human fail to feed a fellow human, animals are the undying support. This kid had as his comrade a monkey. He walked past families with kids staring at him. He occasionally smiled at his friend monkey. He kept on whistling to the monkey which jumped while walking. The maneuver of the monkey drew attention of the children and parents alike. The kid tucked his hand in the pocket and brought out some gram seeds and handed few to the monkey and then both walked. When he reached in front of Hotel Trident both the boy and the monkey stood on the pavement and looked  at the colossal rise of human architect. The boy lifted both his hands and rested them on his head and gazed in wonder. The monkey mimicked him. They both started to walk again. Occasionally the kid called out to pedestrians and people at Marine Drive to offer them a Monkey show. Few kids left their parents and followed the little messiah with the monkey maintaining a distance. 

Now the time for the show had arrived. Seeing a good number of audience the kid shouted to the monkey, "Chal mere dost shuru ho ja"(Come !my friend,  start). 

The monkey nodded in negation. The boy went close to it, said something in its ear and lo !!! the somersault and dances began. The monkey was full of energy. It danced to the drum beats of its master. Kids clapped. A girl shrieked out of fear. And many laughed. 

When the show was over the monkey took a bowl from the master and went on to collect the money. A man approached and handed a ten rupee note, few kids who had the richness of having some coins with them threw at the monkey. A tiny kid came forward with a chocolate and gave it to the monkey and ran away screaming to his mother. The boy collected the earnings tied it in his handkerchief and put it in his cloth bag. The monkey showed him the chocolate. The boy hugged it with joy. He opened the wrapper and shared it. The monkey jumped to his shoulder and gave a clear indication that it wont walk. 

The little kid in dark red shorts with a monkey on his shoulder and a small collection from his audience walked to the other part of the area for new audience and a new show.  

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

The Girl with Red Roses..

She stood in front of Hotel Trident with flowers in hand. She walked slowly to the boy standing at the corner of the footpath. She raised her hand and offered him a stalk of rose. It was beautiful. The little tender hands pleaded him to take one. She said out, “Only twenty rupees, Sahib”.  The young lad smiled and refused. The little girl in white frock moved to the other couples watching the beauty of sunset at Marine Drive, Mumbai. She was hopeful that few would pick up the opportunity of using the rose to please their inamorata. She walked barefoot on the baked pavement. She jumped from one couple to another. The child knew the knacks of convincing customers to buy the flowers. After much struggle, she was able to sell one rose. The customer was not a young lively couple who would use it for courting but an old man walking on sticks with a broad smile. He bought it and tapped away on the pavement. The lass was tired of walking. She sat at the corner of the pavement and looked at the horizon. Her eyes were blank. Her lips dry and hair rusty. She took out few crumpled notes and counted the money. She tucked them back in her frock, wiped her face and tied her hairs with a small rubber band. She got up again and walked along the footpath seeing a car approach the parking lot. She met a business failure there too. She walked along the Marine drive with a hope of getting a customer who would buy her flowers before they wither. The lass walked past small boys of her age playing with their dogs. She walked past old couples staring at the stretch of the sea. She walked past a group of young beautiful girls coming. She walked past everything jolly on the side of the sea. All the way, she never gave up hope and asked almost everyone to buy her flowers. She slowly walked out of sight. The joyful ambience of the area never saw the grief on the face of the little child. She was able to manage something from the joys others. The little lass, in white frock, is another example of the millions working on the streets of any country to feed themselves. She represented the cauldron of children working as child laborer. She fought through the reluctant crowd at Marine Drive to pay heed to her small self-dependent work. She is one of the millions of Little Messiahs around the globe.

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