Finally day before yesterday I went and met those kids who are put up in Dongri remand home. I did not quite know what to expect. I took a few sweets for them; but had no clue about what their reaction would be like.
"Hey, it's the same guy", said Amar when he saw me. The three boys were dressed in the remand home uniform –sky-blue shirts and navy-blue shorts. Amar, who is twelve years old, Salim and Suraj, both of whom are eleven years old, were smiling. When I got up and went to them, Suraj could not hold back his tears and when I wiped one, he hugged me!
The boys are doing well and are currently under observation and the authorities are still trying to trace their parents.
It took me ten days to get permission to see them. Ten days in a remand home before even someone, who was responsible for them being there, comes to visit you. You do not quite know what is in store for you next. And you're only eleven or twelve. A bit like flowers plucked and stuffed in a gunny-bag. Wouldn't be surprised if they are smeared when seen next.
When I was eleven, I had a bicycle. A black Avon BMX. And I went outstation during my vacations.
I am not trying to garner sympathy for the kids here; maybe, we owe them more.
Like my uncle says: Mera Bharat Mahan Nahi Hain; Lekin Yeh Dosh Mera Hain (My India isn't great; but it is my fault).
It hurts to think that I will be sitting back and congratulating you. But thats what I will do. I did not donate blood yet. I did not contribute to any relief fund. I hate beggars. I let a child sweep my room. Maybe you should do one more thing. Start an asylum for people like me.
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