The LOST Childhood

The Lost Childhood

                

Searching for Hope

Where is my joy?

This is for those whose eyes are shut; ears stuffed with selfishness and are dumb to the ever changing social atmosphere. A small child laborer speaks for himself -------

“Why should I speak? No one cares for us.

 Babuji, this world is manifestation of individuals with deep loathing for street and lane encroachment platoon. They think we are an army of parasitic blood, sucking the nation’s economical frontier. We are poor, have no home, eat a single meal---------that’s why we are criminals. The crime is we are born in such a society where the benefactor is material. Our dream is folly for those minarets of prosperity. A single morsel is mountain for each and every boys and girls in our community. We scale such peaks daily but are never reported. The media does the noble job of bringing our photos out in the newspaper with caption ‘The social pollutants litter the streets and the government does nothing to remove them’. We don’t know who cares for us. Our plight is unheeded. Our tears are not wiped. Our wishes are not accounted for. Schooling is meant for boys with big houses. We are considered social burden. Oh! Sorry worse than them. The animals after birth have the opportunity to search for food but we are cursed not to have that noble opportunity. We the humans of streets look for job at the age of three only, to have one meal. The cakes of our labor are taken by our lords who boast feeding us. The government penalizes them (people who offer us jobs for food they offer us) for keeping child laborers and the moment they throw us away we are left unemployed. After some days we starve and wait for death to free us. Freedom is right of every human. The death will surely reduce the number of child laborers and the administration can brag about the reduction in number of parasite children because no data is available for people dying of hunger. Long live your social revolution”.

• The smiles and brightness of dreaming eyes become dull in daily work schedule. 
• A chirping small girl is subjected to the whip of child labor only to become silent and morose. 
• A ten years boy pulls rickshaw with a man of fifty who is unconscious of the crime he is committing.

The hands which need pens get hammers and shovels, the eyes which long for toys get handicraft tools to dim them. 

Oh! The nation is marching towards increasing GDP, NDP and of course power grabbing path but no one knows that the mighty body of India has cavity inside. The loop is becoming vicious and caring for downtrodden and underprivileged is crime. The rubbles are these children’s toys, the shovels their cricket bat the hammer blow their cricket shot and brick laying their field strategy. Their hunger is practice session and starvation is reward for taking birth. What should we say “Long live equality or long live child labor”.

                                                                                                       

Where is CHUTKI ?

The Lost ChildHood..............

They looked around. The shop was open. The bright eyes reflected the naughtiness. He pushed her forward and they moved towards the shop. She looked around and slowly he pulled out the bread packet from counter. They bent below the counter and slowly walked away. She told him, she didn't like the idea but was hungry. Raghu knew his little sister was kind and never voted stealing the bread. But poor little boy had no other option. Their father lay drunk in the corner of the room and mother was out doing her daily chores in the big kothis (big houses) in the big streets. Raghu feared the children there. He felt weak talking to them. Most of the children were kind barring a few who thought it a bad to play with him. They reached their house. Chutki opened the door. It creaked. She stared blankly in the silence of the room. Turned around put her finger on her little dry lips and cautioned Raghu to be silent. She tip toed in the room. Her little body moved near the drunkard lying in the corner of the room. She looked at her father with a grieved eye and the two slipped in the kitchen. Chutki giggled with joy at the thought of having bread today. Both of them vowed to keep the secret that they stole the bread. They ate bread only. Chutki drank a full glass of water kissed her brother and ran out shouting, "You are the best". Raghu knew he was no more the best having taught his four years little sister how to steal bread. He cursed himself and got up to go out. He wiped his tears with his sleeves. The little lad slowly stepped out of the kitchen and then walked outside. He saw children playing on the street. He looked around for Chutki. He walked past the lamp post. He searched in the lane. Slowly Ragu became anxious. He was puzzled. The little boy searched for her everywhere.He asked the women living in the neighborhood. He called aloud, "CHUTKI".   He ran to his house, shook his drunken father. His father slapped him and yelled at him. On being informed about Chulki not being around, he shouted, "Let her go to hell." Raghu slowly walked out of the room. He went to the main street and headed towards the shop where he stole the bread. His eyes wandered around the streets, and his heart echoed the question "Where is CHUTKI?"

A DIALOGUE WITH TAQDEER- (CHILD LABOURER'S DESTINY)

CHILD LABOURER(छुट्टन ): "क्यों  बोलूँ  मैं ? कोई  न  पढ़ेगा ....कुछ बदलेगा  नाहीं .परसों  मशीन  में  कलुआ  का  हाथ  पिस  गवा  ! ऊ  हमरा  चचेरा  भाई, 8  बरस  का  है, काम   करता  है , मैं  भी  करता  हूँ ".

आदमी : कहाँ ?

छुट्टन  - तन-नेरी  में (Leather  Tannery)

आदमी - क्या  करते  हो ?

छुट्टन  - चमरा  उठता  हूँ  और  द्रुम  मशीन  में  डालता  हूँ .

आदमी - कितना  मिलता  है ?

छुट्टन  - पचीस  - तीस  रुपिया,  और  कुछ  मेरी छोटी  बहिन  ले  आती  है   वो  शैखु  के  भत्ते  पे  ईंट  चुनती  है. माँ  बीमार  रहती  है. अब्बा  मोटिया  (load bearer) है.

आदमी - पढ़ते  क्यूँ  नहीं ?

छुट्टन - जितना  कमाता  हूँ  खुद  ही  खा - जाता  हूँ, तो  साला  पढ़ाएगा  कौन . छुटकी  को  पढ़ाकर  शादी  करवाऊंगा . चाय  के  लिए  शुक्रिया . तुम  नेता  हो  का  - अब्बा  से  कह  दूंगा  तुम्ही  को  वोट   देंगे  मैं  तो  अभी  10 साल  का  हूँ .

Not only chhuttan, millions of Indian talents with such sparks which can ignite the hearts of millions are daily burdened by the weight of labour .Oh sorry LOVE of labour and - You ? A SILENT OBSERVER. You can change the world of this dreamer by thinking for children like him.

LISTEN TO THE SILENT BEATS OF YOUR HEART. You are the crier , you are the silent crier think for him, speak for him. Speak against child labour. Speak against this bulwark of social atrocities met by an underprivileged child. Gather courage to break this ice of penury, which is killing many talents.

Mail your thoughts for change.

Email: ling2liang@gmail.com

The little lips....

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"I am black because of my work . No I am not dark complexioned. I break coals for the thekedaar. He has a big godown for coal bits. I am a girl. What can study do for a child like me? I have never been to school. I earn for myself and my parents for them. Some money serves as a morsel for my sisters and me. They are very small. Rahmana is six others are smaller. I am very big .I am '8'. My mother never went to school. She is earning for herself. We are all self-dependent. We do not need to study. Food is our first concern. If we start studying who will care for us, even the thekedar will throw us away. Thekedar uncle says school is bad for my sisters and me. His son goes to school, it is only meant for those boys who live in kothi........................hee-hi-hee-hi, I and school, no sir we are not born for that."

The little lips quivered and the bright eyes wetted. With the same sky for both you and them, no one cares for diverting happiness, hope and light from their lives. You are the chosen one to change their course of fate. You can take up your powerful thoughts and sound the buggle to free them from this doomed state. They do not need money, they need your thoughts. They need affirmative steps to the road of their freedom from chains of labour.

Change your attitude towards them , you will find your brother and sisters in them. They are like you, you are like them . So change yourselves, to change them. MAIL YOUR PRECIOUS THOUGHTS. Your thoughts are invaluable to change the world of small wonders.

Email: ling2liang@gmail.com

Silence .............. Hear the Light & See the Music

Silence and Me ....

Silence has the mysterious power of confronting the barriers of man’s limit. Accomplishing this innate quality takes man life time to feel the inner oneness with infinity. This silence is inborn and talent. Man takes drastic steps to move out of his cocoon. The shell explodes with the zeal and emphatic resonance of blending shades of universal alchemy. Man takes fragile vows and silence forges it into hardened steel. The sword of silence slices the thin air to reap blankets of solace. The expanding evolution in the cacophony has reduced silence to a speck which can be felt by a small group of people only. Unveiling it in the darkness can scatter light and uncovering it in the light can be an ostentatious event. The symphony of silence with feat makes the accomplishment a necessity for recognition. The dwindling colossus figure of your existence takes the catastrophe of modernity as a remedy but the real light of life is silence. The silent movers are silent achievers. The silent crusaders are silent kings. The silent warriors are silent reformers. The silence is in you. The silence is you when you feel the oneness with society. The silence is in you when you feel the unity of free air with your inhalation. Your inspiration is your soul. You can mold your own eternity. The lord of lords has given you the power of extremes all you have to do is stick to it and melt your ‘self’ in the silence of silence.