A prayer for my sweetheart

Its Sunday 30th December 2001, It’s a surprising pleasant Mumbai morning. I am waiting for the 8:37 am local to Belapur. It’s a crowded morning. Revelers going to town for a fun Sunday and ofcourse people working too. You may ask "on a Sunday?" – well, Yeh Hai Mumbai Meri Jaan!

The explorer in me says – don’t lose this opportunity – you are in town on an early Sunday morning – go out and discover Mumbai – that’s what you most like to do. However, after 3 hours of sleep last night – I am not so sure; so I ask the explorer to go talk a walk.

My eyes fall upon a beautiful young girl – 10 feet away, beautifully dressed, looking calm and composed. Hmm… time to fall in love and fall in love I did. She was the most beautiful persona I saw this morning and she was with a bunch of kids her age and older. Sitting at the Kurla station with harmonium in hand – waiting for the busy CST train. It’s a Sunday so hopefully the moolah will be good on the trains and if they are lucky they many get to eat today. Some of the thoughts probably going through their young minds. The kids played, fought and generally hung around – but this one was different – she was probably 4 years – maybe 5 years old. She sat there in all the commotion – quiet, young, and scared – as if searching for someone – searching for someone she can cling to – hug and let go of the life she has. She probably wondered if she deserved this when she looked around and saw a young father delicately hold his young son – caress him, hug him and kiss him. I wonder too – Did she deserve this life???

More children come in – some in their teens – they seem to organize this whole bunch of kids – directing them to platforms and trains that will be theirs for the day. Most kids seem lazy unwilling to carry that heavy harmonium and trudge along the packed trains – singing and begging.

My sweetheart looks on – I could not figure out if she cared less about what was going on around her or was just scared and wondering how she got here. A few elder kids came along – tried to fiddle with her harmonium – she immediately got offensive –"hands off that harmonium!" – I wonder if she loved it so much or just too scared that if something went wrong with the instrument – she would get beaten up.

The look in her eyes never left me – that look that reminded me of my little niece the same age but it was different. My niece has the look of being loved, being happy, being pampered, spoilt and look of hope for the life ahead. My sweetheart had a blank look, a look that questioned her existence, a scared look and a look longing for a little love, a hug and nudge – anything that would be warm and tell her – "Don’t you worry my darling, I am here for you." Did she deserve this life??

The look followed me – I missed the 8:37 local and it was 9:26 now. My feet were stuck to the ground refusing to move. Deep down her look hurt me – where it hurt the most and a tear rolled from my eye – it was not a tear of pity or of sadness – It was I believe a tear of guilt – Why did she deserve this life??

Her brother came along – moved her out of the gang and made her sit away from the other children – no complaints, no questions – she quietly moved with him and sat where she was told too. The sun had risen and was shining blindly on the platform, blinding her eyes – but she sat on. Her brother slapped her – no tears, no questions – she just gave him the cold look that hurt me deep down – where it hurts the most. I got a glimpse of her upclose. Well-dressed, clean face, her hair done beautifully like that of a young Krishna and those really small fingers and dirty long nails. But, those fingers – they were so tiny, so small and cute. I wish I could touch them, hold them delicately in my hands and take her along into my dreamland of love, joy and happiness. She had a gash on her shoulder probably from constantly carrying the harmonium around. She never let go of her bread provider – clinging to it like her life depended on it – not for a second did her hands rest. Her life definitely depended on the instrument. It was after all her only source of daily bread.

In the meanwhile, older women came along – completing a few rounds of the local trains. Some children cheered and ran ahead to hug them and cling to them. Probably their mom. The warmth that mom’s provide is definitely a universal phenomenon – the children’s faces immediately lit up as soon as they saw their moms. But, how many children can one lady handle – There was one on her lap, another clinging to her sari pleading to be on her lap, another clinging to her and longing for a warm look, a warm touch and ofcourse some food. Food they did get – tea and biscuits – they ate happily – not hungrily but contentedly. They were probably happy they got to eat today. My sweetheart looked on – no mom came by to hug her, grab her, love her and give her food. She didn’t seem to mind or complain. She looked on – a cold look, a scared look with not a tear in her eyes. The look that hurt me – deep down where it hurts the most. The 9:26 CST arrived – her brother grabbed her hand, the instrument still clinging to her left shoulder – they jumped into the packed train and went away.

I said a small prayer for my sweetheart.

On my way home – a saw a young child clinging onto her dad learning to take the first unsure steps of life – scared but confident because she had her dad beside her. A young boy was learning to drive a bicycle while his dad hung on from behind, encouraging him to chug on – take on life and promising him that he will never leave his side – be with him always. A young kid enjoying the Sunday morning scooter ride with his dad and a family taking their kid out on a Sunday picnic – dressing the kid in his best Sunday dress – designer goggles and all and promising him that they will give him the best of everything in life. My sweetheart didn’t probably have any of this – all promises broken, probably promises not even made. She learnt to take her first steps when she had to go get her own food, learnt to get on with life when kids beat her up, defending herself – sometimes with tears sometimes quietly. She is today fending for herself in the crowded Mumbai locals – singing, creating music – bringing relief to the stressed souls of Mumbai but yet can’t find a single soul who can touch her heart -–who can hold her tiny little fingers and tell her, "don’t you worry darling, I am there for you". I dread to imagine what the life holds for her – she will probably come out strong and take on the challenge that life has given her – she may succeed – but will all kids like her?? Do they deserve this life??

I wonder!!

I say a small prayer for all my sweethearts out there!