The Slum Mirror

Education and scraps

Their eyes are still filled with hope. Trying to understand and imbibe the lessons their teachers teach. They walk back to their shed or huts along the railway waving each coach that passes, looking at the disturbed birds in the skies and the planes, a single ticket cost of which can change their lives forever

For these buddies, you don’t have to lift the regulation on late night dance nor do they need a discount in some elite club membership. What celebrities wear and gossip is a third world for these. They are happy and contended in their own world. We are talking about these little kids who don’t have a flaw-less roof. No secure family backup, no current or future stability. They dwell in filthy slums amidst sky high flats and apartments.

They begin their day with hope and small expectations from their surroundings and what life has to give for their day. Their tender shoulders have huge responsibilities. They have to take care of their younger ones more than their mothers. They don’t know the breakfast they get served will be cooked fresh or borrowed from last night party's’ left over’s. They are dumb audience to their elders who are quarrelling on petty issues. Still they dress up tidy to leave for a government school.

Their hurdles do not end there too. They do not have enough books, no food to eat for the lunch break. They have not done their homework; either due to darkness in their sheds or the street lamps do not lit up or they got to console their mother who was beaten up by their drunken father who has spent all his days wage for arrack.
Their eyes are still filled with hope. Trying to understand and imbibe the lessons their teachers teach. They walk back to their shed or huts along the railway waving each coach that passes, looking at the disturbed birds in the skies and the planes, a single ticket cost of which can change their lives forever. Yet they are unafraid or are those so bold that they manage to smile away their disparity? They collect lids of beverages to fill their toy collection which is often broken part of scrap, stick and soils. Back at home, they have to wash the utensils and clean their places. They have got to help her mother in patching the roof which was leaking in the last night rains.
Now these bold protagonists are pooling as the dusk is falling making the sight gloomy. They are hurrying up as the street lights are turning on. They run to the brightest lamp with all their fellow friends with books and pencils. They are all excited. They are not sure they will be able to fill their stomach before they sleep. They are doing their project works under the street lights. They can’t afford the costly stickers sold in shops. They are self sufficient. They sketch for themselves. These kids are all filled with content joy and self-less smiles which are topped with spirit of undying courage and hope. They are done with their project in history. With their powerful soul, they have sketched Mahatma Gandhi..