 |
A
young boy, hardly more than twelve years old stepped into the bus. On his
left hand was a sarangi, the instrument of the famous gaaines of
our country. It was more of a surprise when he, in spite of the plenty
of vacant seats that stared at him, opted to sit on the bus floor, his
back resting on a supporting vertical metal pipe of the bus. And he started
playing the instrument.
|
The
tune he played was not a familiar one. Though it was melodious. He faced
towards the front of the bus and I was on the last bench.
Beggar
at tourist spots: Beggar me, beggar you |
A
poor fellow, just stepped into the city of his dreams but with the other
half of his dreams vanished in the so many drenches and the heavily polluted
air and water in the city? From head to toe he was a stringy, dirty body
inside a torn T-shirt reading, "Who's blue?" and a ragged Levi's without
the e, and the s partly absent. He had no underwear underneath.
The
great toe crushed to a black nail was obvious under the thin layer of dust
that covered his right foot. The left was rather dirtier. They looked totally
black with the falling sun in the sky veiled by a huge dark cloud. And
still the foot maintained quite a bit of contrast with the bus floor. The
shape was nature's art. Nothing on the feet. The sarangi continued. I heard
the boy singing something like "Protect us lord Pashupatinath". The back
of the bus was now the more crowded part and the boy came towards the back.
His left hand holding the body of the instrument. He had a watch on the
wrist. Seiko 5 Quartz. Made in Japan. It was a watch drawn on the wrist
-looked like a blue Today's pen- the brand that advertises with a "Got
to win Today".
The
first person to whose knees he threw his hands didn't respond. From the
man's knee he took his hand to his own forehead- that was perhaps the exact
begging part. He repeated this a few times for the first person to whom
he begged in the bus. But to no avail. He shifted himself to the next man
who cared not to either. Then there were a few teenagers who were scolding
him saying that he had made their clothes dirty. He had got nothing as
yet. It was a general tendency. The bus stopped and the bus almost emptied.
And the boy was still empty too. The conductor used harsh words to tell
the boy to sit on a seat.
What's
your name? Give me pen! |
"What's
your name?"
"Arun".
"Home?"
"It's
a village in Sindhupalchowk".
"How
old are you?"
"Fourteen".
"You
beg all day?"
"Yes.
I have to beg to live".
"How
long have you been begging?"
"Two
months". |
"Have
no parents?"
"They
are at home".
"Ever
been to school?"
"Ran
away from home when in class three".
"Where
do you sleep?"
"In
Thamel".
"Where
in Thamel?"
"On
the road. Where else?"
Had
your meal today?"
"Yes.
I had begged twenty-five rupees today. I have already had my meal". |
The
honesty was remarkable. May be because he was still new in the begging
business. And it's a business after all.
|