*Street childrens and their dreams...
|Photo Source: Wikipedia.|
Ever wondered about those smiles in those faces you see beside those dustbin, where you go and throw away your one day old pizza! The thing which loses its shine to us, is the rich for them, they fight, they quarrel for a crust of that bacteria-laden pizza which you can never eat without vomiting with each bite and followed by a severe diarrhea. But to them it’s a God's gift, because they never dream of having pizza, that too a free one? Never in their life for sure, because they are the children of the street, hardly they can find a morsel to bite. We don’t care about them; we don’t think what they have had for their breakfast or lunch, but our mom and dad will call us every hour to know what we had for breakfast, why did we not take extra two breads and so on. Life, as we know it, is too different than what they know.
We are human; we dream; so are they, but do anybody ask those kids what they dream of?
Maybe some of them would say that their dream is to meet Shahrukh Khan, or to have an autograph from Hrithik Roshan. Just that? Yes, many do dream like these. Because they accept their fate: their fate to live in those dusty footpaths, from where we walk by wearing branded shoes, but that's the bed for those newborn children, that's where they learn to walk first, bare footed, they crawl through that same street, the same street which is a waste land for us, we spit, we throw away food parts from our cars without minding where that will land, to their plate? perhaps yes. Poverty is like a caste to them, they never dream to change, or maybe we are scared to let them dream of a life just like us; then who will polish our shoes in a busy railway station when we will bring out a cigar and blow out the smoke in twisted pattern ? It's their life. They deserve to live like this, at least we make them feel that way. Yes, the life we never dare to dream of, because we are scared to live life in poverty, we can never live a day without our cellphone, a day without watching our favorite television series, a day without our favorite food in plate; if not satisfied we just don’t mind throwing them away to dustbin, an appropriate place for things that fail to satisfy us. Yes, satisfaction. That's what we dream of. What do they dream? A piece of bread, a blanket to cozy up to sleep at 2 am chilly night, when the hustle and bustle of the day dies off, when there is less noise of the thundering music coming from all those big complex, because they partied whole day and are probably tired because of the alcohol and rich foods; when they are still hungry, tired waiting day long, for their bit of food, oh never mind, the waste from those complex, a kind maid brings them to the dustbin and with generosity keeps them by the side of the dustbin, because she knows what poverty is, that is why she never dares to throw away the foods wasted by us; fighting over a plate of chicken and biriyani is their monthly affair, they love doing this, they wait for this day all month long, a day they could eat the food they can never afford. And when they are done, they crawl up to the footpath, and dream of a life, so unknown to us, its that time when earth is at its best. They feel the warmth and silence of mother nature. We go back to the same place, a place known to everybody, young, old, rich, poor; we sleep, we dream.
P:S: This is my first try of creative writing.