My Beggar-Kid

I have been a regular visitor at the Katta- the long strip of seating opposite the Podar and Ruia college buildings. Spent my evenings there with a varied set of people, sometimes engaged in serious, heartfelt conversations-some other times in absolute sillyness,laughing out loud or nimbling on an evening snack purchased from one of our favourite eating places. Katta has been an integral part of my life in Matunga.

So, obviously, while one is seated at the strip, he/she is bound to look around. After a while, checking out the college crowd gets a lil boring, and the next best thing that grabs one's attention are the beggar kids running around-yelling,crying,fighting or playing with the dogs. The slum-dwellers have been wiped out from the area..but 2-3families still remain. I have been very observant with their movements, as their life fascinates me. I no longer,sympathize in a way I used to, but I still coax myself to give that sight a thoughtful glance. There are too many lessons strewn in there.

I had this favouirte beggar kid out of that lot, I really liked. He was this malnutritioned baby, who had thin limbs but a huge stomach..like a watermelon. Something about him was so striking- I think it were his eyes. He had these long eye-lashes, which flapped most gently in expressions of amazement and anxiety. For moments, I was wrapped in that freshness. He was oblivious to my existence, ofcourse, or to anyone's as a matter of fact. He recognized just his parents and an old man, who I think was his grand-father.

Life alters for everyone, right? My frequent visits to the katta became so seldom..I think other activities took that leisure time off. The beggar kid left his strong influence in my memory. I think I have unfailingly mentioned to everyone I have brought to the katta, my fixation about that child and his innocence.

It was just yesterday, when I was at the katta once again sitting with a friend..watching the traffic, when a 2year old ran past us. One look and I recognized, my favourite beggar kid it was! He had grown taller and slimmer. That worrisome paunch had almost subsided...but those eyes had become even more prominent. He wasn't as rowdy as his other beggar friends, but remained as energetic. His mother brought a bucket of water and chose a spot right opposite to where we were sitting..she undressed him and began to bath the child. Water poured over his body and those lashes flapped in slight shock. I am not sure if he enjoyed the coldness of the water..but he sure seemed to obey his mother's intention of having him cleaned and tidy.

She later fished out a decent pair of blue shorts and shirt, first wiped her son's body with it and then helped him wear the same. He didn't know if it were important to have a separate cloth to dry one's body...or for that matter having a bath on a foothpath with an audience staring back casually, was a matter of embarassment or shame. The blue clothed boy ran in full speed towards his beggar friends, happy his task was over..play-time had commenced and life was so fair and kind and beautiful!

I smiled at my thoughts. These occasional glimpses into strange lives was so thrilling, like food for my imagination. Content with my experience, I walked back home...a slight remembrance of the beggar kid's face- his questioning eyes, the half-happy smile. Like the scattering of the grains of sand, the complexities of my own existence caused the pieces of this picture to disperse in my memory... till another time.