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18 Aug 2009 2 Comments
Children like these have created millionaires and lakhs of white color jobs
It is six month now. I was walking towards Batla House bus-stand on my way to court. I was about 7 minute walk away from the bus stop when a small whirlpool of commotion erupted, about 20 yards or so ahead. People around the place suddenly standing in attention, their faces turned towards the focal point of incident, where a narrow street branched off towards Azim Dairy.
By the time I reached the spot a small circle of score of persons had converged around. I thought somebody had met with an accident.
A small boy dark skin, in an oversize shirt, and under-size pant, lay writhing, twisting and turning, caked in dust as if in a spasmodic attack of epilepsy.
After sometime they hauled him onto a wooden cot lying near by.
A little distance way a shopkeeper was narrating to a group of acquaintances as to what had happened.
“They were two of them, young fellows – stopped their bike over there”. He pointed to a spot across the street.” Came over here – one of them held the boy another one rained blows on him- violently -very violently.”
In the meanwhile the boy climbed down and sulked in his haunches, badly nauseating wanting to vomit. He changed places several times and finally settled near the cane juice shop dazed and listless. A young help splashed his face with water. The duo seemed to be in the know of each other.
After much gentle persuasion the young help gave in after much reluctance. The two youths who had wounded the boy were sound of the victim’s previous employer, who would not pay him wages and would abuse and beat him all the time- would allow him only two hours sleep. The boy was only able to have his dinner around 1.00-2.00 A.M after fixing everything in the shop and would wake him up at the call of Azan.
As I left the place, the boy seemed to have recovered a little. He sat alone, lonely abandoned and marooned, gazing at something in air.
17 Aug 2009 1 Comment
16 Aug 2009 1 Comment
Previous Sunday. The boy was not more than 12 year old. He works in a road side canteen in a predominantly Muslim locality called Jamianagar in New Delhi consisting a population about of 2 lakh faithfuls- a prosperous place indeed.The muscular man rained blows with his fist on the boys head. The boy begged for mercy and whimpered and shrieked in pain. After the first round was over.The man started with his leg and knees. Twisting both the hands backwardsHe started hitting the boys chest with his knees. Then he dragged the boy to the cabin where they keep utensils and groceries. and slammed the door.After he came out of the cabin he had an iron grill in his hand which is used to pierce chunks of meat and roast them on of embers. There was complete silence inside. I presume the boy had lost conscious if not died. The owner of canteen his two sons and relatives and faithfuls eating there did not bother to pay any attention. People went about their chores as matter of factedly.The inquisitor was insisting that the boy must have spat on the canteen floor to which the boy denied.