That little boy, at the age of playing and having fun, was begging for food, struggling for his existence, on a day-to-day basis. He looked tired and weary, but his little basket remained empty.
It was getting dark all around the Gateway of India. He went to the platform, where people were queuing up for a ride on the local boat. He stood there beside the railing, staring at the passers-by, who were enjoying their evening in their own way.
While getting off the boat, a tourist handed him a packet of leftover snacks. He opened it and was overjoyed to see the pieces of donuts too in the packet. Then he did not see who has given this happiness.
Without looking back, he ran wildly to share the packet with his younger sister, who was lying hungry on the lap of their mother, who was sitting on the edge of a bench in a tattered saree. She tied her daughter's hair with colorful ribbons, trying to console the little girl and divert her attention from the hunger.
The food packet was like a jackpot for the family of three. The frenzy was palpable in their eyes. Everything else is of little concern, when the question of momentary sustainability becomes paramount; when hunger becomes the only religion.
To share the food among themselves, the mother hastily tore three pages out of a book, which she had rag-picked, along with other books, notebooks, and other scraps from dustbins and households, to sell to a scrap dealer. She had also picked up a broken piggy bank from the garbage to use as a begging bowl.
I was sitting on another bench, and was watching all these activities. I called the mother. She hesitated with fearful eyes, but when I handed her a packet, her face lit up with a glow of smile. Her expression at that time cannot be imitated unless one has experienced the same bliss in life.
She simply grabbed the packet with her feeble hands without even looking at its contents. For a family like hers, anything and everything was valuable.
There is too much suffering in this world, which can be alleviated and mitigated, if those who have, share a part of their surplus, with those who do not have. Philanthropy does serve a purpose to some extent, but why this disparity? I wonder who decides this and why.
--Kaushal Kishore
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