Boy Without Childhood

Boy without Childhood - Abhishek Gope

He is a small kid wearing a soiled green shirt, torn at his shoulder, revealing his unclean, dirty, blackish skin. He is not walking,
because he cannot. His left foot is twisted in an awkward way, and though he is skinny from head to toe, his left leg below knee
seems to be sucked out off blood and muscle. He is moving, rather, dragging his weightless body with all his strength less three limbs.
In the fourth limb, his left hand, he holds his means of self employment - a broom.
I have not yet seen his face, he is looking down towards the floor of the train compartment for any kind of waste thrown by person
sitting on berths' who have rented it for this part of journey. He is applying broom meticulously and reaching as far as he could get and
ensuring that costly sandals, slippers and shoes are not wiped out. His brown shorts is automatically wiping of the floor for any
remaining dust that is left behind. Or is the shirts cream coloured? - can't clearly figure it out. His hair has turned brownish and looks
like that of an Anglo Indian.
His right hand is in the shape of a fist. His left leg is surely a case of polio, but why is his right hand shaping a fist? Is he suffering from
some big medical-terminology disorder?
He is now cleaning my luggage space. I can see his protruding cheek bones. It is just like rest of the body - filthy. He lifted my camel coloured
Woodland sandals, wiped the surface, and kept them back. Now he is waiting for me to lift my foot off the floor. He is not looking at
me, just waiting. As I lift them and he continued on his task.
The lady on berth in front of me, dropped her handkerchief by mistake. Just where he was to clean. He picked it up, shook it off any
dirt, and offered it back to her. She just shooed him with a yell of disgust towards the kid as if the handkerchief is an used tissue and
the boy untouchable. He did not react, and pocketed the cloth. Maybe he was accustomed to this type of reaction. Maybe he will use it
to stitch his torn shirt.
He steadily moved to other end of the compartment with his latest collection of waste. Heap of waste the literate, smart, well dressed
and earning a good income passengers have thrown everywhere but not into trash bin. Heap of waste, the polio stricken, illiterate,
filthy kid has collected, so that the cleaned floor can be soiled again by these passengers.
Finally, he threw his collection of the train compartment. But why is he coming back? And now he is raising his right hand toward
passengers. No, his right hand has no medical issues. He just opened his fist, and I can see small silver coloured circular discs -
coins. His earnings till now.
He is dragging himself back to every place he just cleaned, stretching his hand towards every passenger whose footwear he had
lifted, whose wastage he threw out. He is just asking reward for his hard work he has did.
But this is a hard world to live in and the smartest creatures on it - we - are much more hard. Many gave him a penny, but mostly he
was ignored or shooed away. He just saluted them and moved on. Now that he is looking up, I can see his face. A face which shouts
for affection, love and food. His eyes are deep and hollow. His cheeks having many lines of dried up tears which have rolled down
many times. His lips are parched and dry and his tongue licking them to keep it moist. He is a kid whose childhood is lost.
I took out packet of biscuit from my bag, biscuit the caterer served me this morning, and gave it to him. He looked at the pack and then
at me. Maybe he was a bit confused, maybe he expected another fifty paisa coin. H gave a weak smile.
We felt a jolt - the train has started moving again for its next destination. The kid saluted me and dragged himself towards
compartment door, out to the platform. The train left the platform and I saw him eating those biscuits. Slowly he was out of my sight,
and my eyes adjusted to the reflection on my window. Reflection of that lady, sitting opposite to me, my fellow passenger, wiping off
excess mascara with a new handkerchief.