Those curly pony tails...

Till this moment, I’d rate today as only one of the most reflective and self satisfying days of my life. Right now, I’m waiting in a place which I’m required to visit for official purposes. As I was coming here in train, I got quite lost to the passing landscape. Suddenly, I felt someone touching my arm- a touch so unsure yet tender. I turned abruptly from the window and saw a tiny girl standing beside my seat and begging. I felt numb for the first few seconds. The child barely knew how to speak. She lisped something incoherent to me.. She should be around three years old, quite stunted for her age with reddish brown hair heavily oiled and parted into two jaunty pony tails. Those curly ponytails reminded me of how much rightful is she of a proper childhood.

Those curly ponytails reminded me of those daintily clad little girls playing at the garden swing with their hair merrily flying behind with the indomitable enthusiasm that belongs only to childhood…

Those curly ponytails reminded me of my own childhood where I didn’t quite understand what it meant to go without one square meal a day…

Those curly ponytails reminded me of another little girl who threw a temper tantrum at the local mall for getting an expensive frilly outfit sold for a staggering price…

Those curly ponytails reminded me of my college field visit to a nursery school attended by affluent children. All the tiny tots were attired in ‘designer clothes’ with such high IQs quite unnecessary for their ages. They probably have never heard of little girls who begged for their livelihood…

I wondered how many memories a pair of ponytails could evoke in me. I smiled to myself. I think far too much these days.

I just stared at her reflecting for what seemed like aeons. The child turned away, probably deciding that I mightn’t give her any alms, and started begging afresh to the passenger nearby.

I turned to the window again and started my reflections. I wondered how anyone could let a tiny child to beg. She barely knew what it meant to ask for alms and that she’s doing one of the most self-humiliating deeds on earth.

She’s too young to perceive things as self-concept or ambition. Her tiny cupped palms could hold just two coins at a time and yet she was taught begging by a heartless someone.

That ‘someone’, who thought that the tender, slipperless feet, could walk the long dirty aisles of suburban trains asking for alms…

That ‘someone’, who chose ‘begging’ rather than ‘schooling’ as the child’s profession…,

And that ‘someone’, who made her a wretch even before she knew about herself and her prospective miserable life awaiting her…,

As I got down the train, I combed the milling crowd to see her for one last time. I sighed deeply and kicked myself for not giving anything to her. I couldn’t find her.

She’s probably begging in another train now. A train bound for goodness-knows-where…Just like her tender little life…