“Like slavery and apartheid,
poverty is not natural. It is man-made and it can be overcome and eradicated by
the actions of human beings.”
-
Nelson
Mandela
My husband was transferred to this city and we had to shift here last week.
The city seemed nice and raunchy.
And I liked it.
But when I reached the staff-quarter given to my husband, I got irritated.
It was the last in the lane and adjacent to it was a slum covered area.
My husband gave me a puppy-eyed look and I let out a king breathe.
"Okay! I will adjust!"
And he smiled.
It took me this whole week to set-up all the things and make this quarter look like a 'home'.
Everything was going smooth until this morning.
I went out to throw left-over food of last night.
"Eee mat fenkiye bibi jii... Humka deiyo do....Kha laibo!"
And I turned to see a slum-boy in his early teenage may be.
Completely malnourished.
Ragged clothes and ribs almost coming out of skin.
The mere sight and his words gave me goosebumps.
My heart wrenched at his condition.
His eyes pleaded for food I was about to dump down.
And it seemed he hasn't eaten since ages.
Emotions spurred out and I felt so heavy.
Why is so God so biased?
On one side he blesses some people with excess of everything and on the other side, gruesome lack of even the survival essentials.
My trance broke when he pleaded again.
"De dijo bibi ji"
"Kya naam hai tumhara?"
"Kanhaiya, bibi ji!"
"Khana khaoge?"
His eyes gleamed and he joined his hands in gratitude.
As if I offered him a stack of gold.
I made him a simple sabzi-roti and served them along with curd.
He ate like a hungry hound and it ached a part of me.
I felt like caressing the kid inside of him with a love-dipped treat and i put a huge piece of pastry in his plate which I had brought earlier for my munchkin.
The smile he gave me then was so innocent and it made me feel so warm.
After eating his full, he greeted me and bowed down to me and left.
The whole incident gave my heart a satisfaction.
The kind of satisfaction which can't be described in words, but only felt!
Kanhaiya was gone but that sight and his words echoed in my ears again and again. It forced my mind to boggle on the conditions in which kids like him grow up.
The slum people crave for the things we take for granted.
Food, clothes and shelter.
The stuff, we don’t even acknowledge as present, are the same they dream of.
Is this fair?
Isn't this our responsibility to at least provide them with basic amenities?
Or should this be left on the sleeping government?
I guess. One must, least of all, give one time meal to them.
Try it once!
It feels good.
It feels big.The city seemed nice and raunchy.
And I liked it.
But when I reached the staff-quarter given to my husband, I got irritated.
It was the last in the lane and adjacent to it was a slum covered area.
My husband gave me a puppy-eyed look and I let out a king breathe.
"Okay! I will adjust!"
And he smiled.
It took me this whole week to set-up all the things and make this quarter look like a 'home'.
Everything was going smooth until this morning.
I went out to throw left-over food of last night.
"Eee mat fenkiye bibi jii... Humka deiyo do....Kha laibo!"
And I turned to see a slum-boy in his early teenage may be.
Completely malnourished.
Ragged clothes and ribs almost coming out of skin.
The mere sight and his words gave me goosebumps.
My heart wrenched at his condition.
His eyes pleaded for food I was about to dump down.
And it seemed he hasn't eaten since ages.
Emotions spurred out and I felt so heavy.
Why is so God so biased?
On one side he blesses some people with excess of everything and on the other side, gruesome lack of even the survival essentials.
My trance broke when he pleaded again.
"De dijo bibi ji"
"Kya naam hai tumhara?"
"Kanhaiya, bibi ji!"
"Khana khaoge?"
His eyes gleamed and he joined his hands in gratitude.
As if I offered him a stack of gold.
I made him a simple sabzi-roti and served them along with curd.
He ate like a hungry hound and it ached a part of me.
I felt like caressing the kid inside of him with a love-dipped treat and i put a huge piece of pastry in his plate which I had brought earlier for my munchkin.
The smile he gave me then was so innocent and it made me feel so warm.
After eating his full, he greeted me and bowed down to me and left.
The whole incident gave my heart a satisfaction.
The kind of satisfaction which can't be described in words, but only felt!
Kanhaiya was gone but that sight and his words echoed in my ears again and again. It forced my mind to boggle on the conditions in which kids like him grow up.
The slum people crave for the things we take for granted.
Food, clothes and shelter.
The stuff, we don’t even acknowledge as present, are the same they dream of.
Is this fair?
Isn't this our responsibility to at least provide them with basic amenities?
Or should this be left on the sleeping government?
I guess. One must, least of all, give one time meal to them.
Try it once!
It feels good.
Kasam se! Accha Lagta Hai!
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