The eyes that haunt me...

I have this habit of analyzing everything and every person around me. This habit has got me into trouble multiple times and has sometimes got me out of them too. It is a part of my character, my personality, so I can't help but live with it. This bit that I am going to share is from a memory that still haunts me even after almost 12 years... I am sure that I over analyzed this situation too and created a story by myself around this one character that I saw for merely 10 minutes. Yet unfortunately I know it must have been true.

In 2002 I had just finished school and was studying to take engineering entrance examinations. I had joined this study institute in south-west Delhi, and I used to take a DTC bus every day to get there. 

One of these days, I took a bus to go to my classes. I still remember I used to pay a mere Rs. 2 to get to my bus stop. It was a short ride, but I had just started taking the bus alone and by myself so I used to enjoy every moment of it. On this day, I was sitting right near the exit door of the bus so that I could get down as soon as my stop came. I saw this little boy climbing on to the bus. He must have been be around 7 or 8 years old, in a blue shirt and grey shorts, of fair complexion, a handsome diamond shaped face, with beautiful milky grey eyes. When I first saw him I expected a parent or a guardian or somebody older to him to have accompanied him on to the bus because you never expect such a small kid to ride a bus alone. Then I started paying attention to his complete appearance. The shirt and shorts were dirty, he had no shoes on and was smelling of urine. He stood near the door for a minute and then started to make his way through the bus, asking for alms. Some people gave him a rupee, some people avoided eye contact, some shooed him away, but he relentlessly asked each and every person and then went back to the door of the bus. He stood there holding onto the pole, looking at the passengers, through his transparent, beautiful grey eyes, full of cynicism instead of innocence, full of ridicule instead of playfulness, full of a cold stone like quality instead of the warmth of a childhood. 

He got off the bus when it slowed down at a traffic signal. I just sat there, stunned by the horrific reality of that sight. I was 17 years old. I had just finished school. My life and my world until that point in time revolved mostly around my school, my family and my home. I used to have problems related to my studies, my friends or my family or my teachers. That day, in those few minutes I realized that I had just seen something that was beyond anything I might have gone through personally.

A little boy who must have been from a good family, pampered by his parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts. A little boy who probably must have been on a vacation, or playing in a playground with his little friends, or coming back or going to school. A little boy who must have had a good future to look forward to. This little boy, who must have been snatched away from his family, his friends, his future, his childhood. This little boy who must have been lost and scared for such a long time, must have looked for his parents in so many buses he must have boarded, must have asked strangers if they knew his parents. This little boy who was abandoned by the society, today had abandoned the society itself. This little boy had given up the hope to ever find the ones who had once fed him, bathed him, sung lullaby to him, protected him. 

I still remember him because after that one day, I saw him everywhere, at the traffic signals, on buses and trains. The numerous children that I would see, begging for alms, touching feet of strangers, sometimes carrying infants, I would worry for them at night, not being able to go to sleep. The guilt of not being to help them in any way weighing down on me. But I am stuck in my own troubles, my own miseries. How will I ever be able to do anything to end this plague? That day I saw him alight from the bus and walk away, disappearing into the crowd. But I never forgot those eyes. I will never forget that boy. And he will forever haunt me.

 Note: According to a shocking data published by the UN office on drugs and crimes (UNODC) on human trafficking, the most common form of human trafficking (79%) is sexual exploitation. 

The second most common form of human trafficking is forced labour (18%), although this may be a misrepresentation because forced labour is less frequently detected and reported than trafficking for sexual exploitation.

Worldwide, almost 20% of all trafficking victims are children. However, in some parts of Africa and the Mekong region, children are the majority (up to 100% in parts of West Africa). 

While the above was a Global report, according to Wikipedia there is no reliable way of specifying these numbers in India. But according to some NGO's around 20 million to 65 million people in our country are effected by flesh trade. According to CRY 11.8% children in India are engaged in some form of child labour (National Family Health Survey III - NFHS).