Seafood with a lot of soul

How I wonder what you are?

A young boy named Mohammed once told me, “Didi, (sister) can you give your phone number?” Though we had spent the whole day together, I must admit I was very reluctant to share my phone number with my new friend. “Why do you want it, Mohammed?” I asked, hesitatingly. “Because when I am in trouble at least I can call you. didi. The police, beat us every time and they ask for money when we have none so I sometimes don’t know whom to call.”

Mohammed was a street child. Even using that term to address him seems awkward to me now, so many years later. He was attending a social service event called ‘Project Care’ that we used to host for children from organisations all over Bombay, around Christmas time. 100 children were offered a hearty meal and a visit to a zoo or park to ring in the spirit of giving.

As a young college goer at the time, meeting boys like Mohammed on Bombay’s streets was not new to me. I still see a lot of children begging for money and often harassing people for spare change. As a lecturer told us, “After a point we become immune to the sight of street children begging on the road.”

Mohammed  was not just another face in the crowd. He had spent the entire day wondering if he could muster up the courage to ask for my number. Since I was pre warned that we should avoid getting too personal with the children attending the event, I somehow changed the topic and heeded his request.
I often wonder about Mohammed and where he might be today. When we met, he used to sell newspapers to make a few Rupees. Most days he was lucky to escape being beaten by anyone in authority for loitering about. He did not have a roof over his head or speak of parents or a family and yet he called me his sister, so I still feel somewhat responsible for him.  He was the epitome of street smart and won the hearts of all the organisers that day. I hope that all the harsh realities of life didn’t take him to the wrong side of the law.

The recent horrific cases that have emerged out of my home country have left me numb. Not only are the crimes more ghastly, they are increasingly against young children. Sure we’ve watched Slumdog Millionaire but honey, that’s just the tip of the murk-filled dirt pit. Children in India and I’m sure in many countries around the world, are mistreated and manipulated in all kinds of gruesome ways.  

What happens when you violate a child’s world? Well not only have you scared an innocent’s life for the rest of its days, you have also opened a can or ugly worms, wreaking havoc for his or her future. Violating a child sexually not only brings on untold humiliation to the child it can cause volumes of mistrust issues.

I guess you may noticed I have refrained from using the four letter word that begins with R and ends in E. I am sure you can fill in the blanks. There is enough of newsreel and footage on the subject in the past few months to make the issue unforgettable.  Many in my profession have shown utter disrespect for the rights of privacy, which like it or not, is critical to the victims as much as to the perpetrators of these crimes. If you want to place hoodies on those who have committed these crimes, at least prevent the victims from further victimisation. 

Like a diamond in the sky

The familiar nursery rhyme ‘Twinkle, twinkle little star’ isn’t merely a repetitive anthem that most children sing. It also speaks of the endless wonder in their young minds. Especially children who have no little to call their own, the least we can attribute to them is their own bodies. The monsters aren’t living across the shore. They are in our houses. They come up when we look at vulgar images of children and ask them to do things that children are not meant to do. Lets clean up our own backyard before claiming that one city is bad and another worse. In case we’ve forgotten what it was to be child like, just talk to someone who’s childhood like Mohammad’s was taken away too soon. 

Image taken at Shelter, Don Bosco Khandala, India. Shelter is a drug rehabilitation home for young boys. The sign, reads: I will become someone and then go home.