* The Festival of Lights * Tonight, there are lights all around, wherever I look. There are candles burning on porches and balconies, diyas lined up outside every home in my locality, lights hanging from roof tops and trees. Kids can be seen burning crackers in the streets. Markets are closed except for shops selling sweets and fire-crackers. Neighbourhood aunties, sometimes their kids, are going from door to door with plates of sweets in hand, and returning with similar plates, their own set of sweets replaced with those given by the others, sign of a successful barter. I have reached a temple. I see scores of poor little kids, barely clothed, sitting in a line outside the temple, awaiting prasad or money from devotees. The kids, boys and girls, are almost naked. Its beginning to get cold in Delhi, and my mind shudders to think how these kids will spend their winters on the street. A dirty little boy of about seven or eight, belonging to this group of beggars, is staring longingly at a girl sitting inside a car parked outside the temple, eating ice cream. I cry. I search my pockets to check if I have any money. I am not poor, but for some reason I do not have the habit of carrying a wallet. I keep my money in my bag. Tonight, I am not carrying it. I have no money. I make a mental note, return tomorrow and feed these kids, and if possible get them some old clothes. The girl in the car finishes her ice cream. Like all educated children she throws the empty cup out of the window. The poor boys eyes light up. He runs in the dark, naked. He picks up the cup and runs back to his group. To the bus stop, behind which the poor kids are sitting. He hands over the cup to an even smaller kid, who must be about five or six. That smaller kid starts to lick the empty cup. I cry some more. ~ Abhijit Chakraborty
Posted on: Sun, 03 Nov 2013 18:22:45 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015