78 Thursday Blog 16.8.12
The worst place I have seen these young ones is on the tracks of Howrah station. I always (almost) sat by the window. On my return journey I first noticed them, picking up re-saleable discards from railway tracks, their ages ranged from four to fourteen, may be one or two years lenient on both sides. Their dresses were stained, tattered, hardly looked like made of cotton.
They made those tracks home; any Indian should shudder to think that, because Indian railway tracks are as dirty as public lavatories.
They used to sit, lie and chit-chat there; I watched with horror as rats as big as small sized cats scurried along with them in those dark tracks.
These kids don’t have any future but to die before their times or become criminals in future. I certainly will not blame them for the latter part but will say that serves this white collared society right.
Lot of my co passengers used to say that they work as spies for criminals, or themselves become pick-pockets or snatchers if given chance.
What else will they do?
But if, the charitable organizations run by government money that extract every dime and penny in name of welfare of their inmates were not butchers, and did their duty their lives might have been on the path of betterment.
These butchers suck money from government and then en-cashing government corruptions use that money for their own welfare. Whereas the kids that are under their care are monstrously abused, starved and mostly die a far more horrible death than these kids I fear. Every other day stories are published but the nonchalant society reads them munching toast with a thick layer of butter and forgets by end of the hour.