Subho

I was returning from Vizag yesterday in the Inter-City Express. Somewhere along the journey, a little kid came and started sweeping the floor near my feet. I generally discourage begging and so shooed him away. I feel disgusted by people who make the poor kids sweep the floor and don’t even pay them for it.

After half an hour, I see the same kid. He’s standing near the wash basin, his broom in one hand. He is short and skinny. He must be around 5 years old. A hawker was selling samosas. ‘How much for one?’ he asks.

2 rupees.

He looks in his pocket, takes out a coin, and gives the man. The hawker gives him the samosa in his hand. The kid asks him for some salt. The hawker gives it to him in his hand. I stand up and ask him why he dint give the kid the usual paper plate and sauce.

‘Why should I give him, saab? I can use it for some other customer.’

‘Give him a paper plate and sauce’, I told the hawker. He gave the kid the plate throwing me a dirty look.

The kid ate up the samosa greedily.

‘You want one more?’

He looks at me, turns his head in a ‘no’ and walks away, casting me a final glance before hurrying on to the next compartment.

At Vizianagaram, I get down to buy some snacks. When I return, the kid is sitting next to a boy who’s about 12 years old in the seat next to me. The two kids are talking. I look at them. One of them is dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. The other is a scrawny kid with many scars on his hands,face,and legs.

I lean in to listen to what they are talking. The elder kid was asking the little one about his home.

‘I have no home, sir. I live on the train. The other boys on the train always beat me up. They have also pushed me out of the train a few times.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Subho’

I smiled at the irony. ‘Subho’ means auspicious in Oriya. The kid was actually pretty cute. If he had normal parents and went to school and had a normal life, he would have been pretty cute looking. But his hands were dirty, there were scars all over his hands and legs and he held on to his broom like it was precious.

When we reached Berhampur, I asked him if he wanted to eat something. He looked at me, as if he was shocked someone would ask him that.

‘Yes’, he said and his eyes lit up.

I got down and signaled him to get down too. ‘Lets find something to eat, I am hungry too’

‘I cant get down. Someone will flick my broom if i get down’.

‘Bring it with you then, and come quickly’

He brought his broom and I helped him get down. ‘We have to come back quickly, the train stops for very little time here’, he said trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about.

‘You want to have Poori?’ He nodded in the affirmative.

I bought a packet for each of us. The train sounded the whistle. I purposely waited for it to pick up a little pace and when it did, I ran to the door and lifting him up with both hands threw him inside the train. He was laughing loudly.

‘Wash your hands before you eat’. He obediently washed his hands and started devouring the Pooris.

‘Can I lie down here?’ , he asks after he is done with the Pooris.

I shift a little and give him my book to rest his head on. He lay down on the seat.

I looked at him. What could I do for this kid ? How could I suggest that he go to a school? What good would an education do him ?

I knew that I had found a topic for my next blog. Was I a creep ? Was I using this situation just so that I had something new to write about?

I don’t know that. But if you ever travel by the Vishakapatnam-Bhubaneswar Inter City Express and see a little kid called Subho, be nice to him. He’s actually very sweet.