I declined politely. I am not an iconoclast,nor am I completely unaffected by the "achcha shagun" phrase, but somethings just fail to make sense and therefore, impact.Like dancing in front of mare will ensure a happy married life...umm I thought that happened through mutual understanding and...but well what do I know, I am not married yet. Maybe I'll hire a mare and dance in front of her every time I want to get my husband to do something for me, thus ensuring my happiness in the married life...
Besides, after having spent nearly 3 hours stuck in traffic, trying to get to the wedding hall, the idea of "dancing" to some archaic, incomprehensible tunes of the dhol with women laden with jewelery,makeup and stilettos they could barely stand straight in,was hardly appealing.
So I just decided to remain a mute audience, and dream happily of the inviting comforts of my bedroom and bedside novels and sleep....but walking is not a very comfortable way of dreaming,especially if you are not a somnoambulist, which much to my disappointment, I realized, I was not.
So I just started doing the next lazy thing, looking around at the people, and it was then that something caught my attention. As a keener look revealed, it was a boy of around 12, completely famished and starved. He was with the band, as one of the lantern holders, he could not have weighed more than 25Kgs, I am no doctor or nutritionist, but I guess he should have been at least 38Kg at the age of 12, while the lantern he was carrying on his head was at least 10Kg. His legs trembled under the weight he was carrying and he was almost in tears. Perhaps he had not had a single meal since the morning, or terrifying as the thought is, for days.....
I simply could not take my gaze away from his face, young, innocent, sunken with hunger,broken by poverty. All the other members of the band were much older, young to middle aged men, all 25 or above, but it seemed that being the youngest and the only child amongst them had not given this boy any advantage, he had not been given any lighter equipment to carry and was in all probability getting the minimum wages, besides a one-time meal perhaps, if at all.
I could not help but think of the lives we've had,me and the people around me, my friends and cousins, and the lives we hope to give to our children. We've always had plenty of comforts, if not luxuries, we never had to worry about where to sleep if it was pouring. We hated school and homework, and to us the biggest problem in the world used to be getting mom n dad to buy us something new, a new dress,a new toy...we never thought how it gets paid for. And today when I know, I hope to give the same to my children, the ignorant, innocent life that I was blessed with and if possible more....
I could not stop these thoughts rushing through my mind, as I looked at the stark contrast of the happy, well-fed,healthy & rich faces of my relatives, dancing away for the good luck and destiny of my cousin,and this boy whose only fault was perhaps that he had been born poor and for which perhaps he would pay all his life. The “economic-divide” had never looked so real,
I remembered, as a child, how proudly I used to declare to everyone that I'll be a pilot or a scientist when I grew up,whenever asked, and I realized how futile this question was for this child, and is for the millions of children of this country who are not as lucky as you and I are.
For them, the only question that exists, the one that never leaves their eyes, their faces, is where the next meal will come from,education,a bed,a toy,are things they can only even dream of, and any other question leaves their eyes completely blank, they don't understand what you mean. And its when you see that look, is when you realize that you've asked the wrong question...
This incident was years ago, but the boy's memory has never left me, and every time I read or hear or talk of India becoming a superpower, I almost instantly find myself staring back into his eyes.
Hungry. Pleading. Vacant.
