Old At 10

Many call me old fashioned.

'Why don't you simply order online? It is cheaper and hassle-free'...

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'You can shop for all your groceries and more under one roof if you go to D-Mart or Big Bazar'. 

The tantrums I face go on...

Somehow, I still prefer going in person to the good old kirana (Indian version of a grocery store).

The bargaining, the complaining, the rush of people: old, young, rich, poor... it seems lively.

I feel a sense of belonging.

Last weekend was one of my usual visits to the kirana. I normally shop for the whole week over the weekend.

Right opposite to the kirana, on the other side of the road, a temporary shelter had come up.

In about a month, more than 15 temporary structures were erected and I reckon about 10 families, with about 20 children, ageing from a few months old to about age fifteen reside there.

I don't think these children get any formal education, as such.

I see them all the time wandering close to these shops - either playing among themselves or asking for alms.

The elder ones seem to be dressed adequately, but the younger ones are mostly in tatters. Mostly half-naked or worse.

I somehow believe in feeding the kids rather than giving money in alms.

You never know what they do with the money.

But with food, all that they could do is eat. It doesn't matter who eats, as long as it serves its purpose.

And that day was no different.

The kids knew me by now. As soon as they saw me, they made a queue outside the shop.

You'd be surprised with this (the kids making a queue), but there is a little history to this.

A couple of months ago, while I was buying some goodies for these children, the shopkeeper of the shop shooed away all the kids with a broomstick. I could see the children scrambling around the shop and they simply kept coming back. The shopkeeper was also adamant. He kept at it. And the intensity was growing.

It was heartbreaking.

I tried to reason out with the shopkeeper. He had his reasons. One of which was a strong one. He said that since these 'shabby and uncultured' kids wander near his shop, in hope of alms or food, his prospective customer(s) chose to buy items from the adjacent shop and not his. 

Thereby, he is losing his business.

I was mad at him, but he had a point.

After a lot of arguments, we decided on a workable plan.

From now on, the kids will have to be in a queue outside the shop, wait patiently, and will not create any hindrance for his prospective customers, whatsoever.

I had a difficult time convincing the kids. Finally, they seemed to get it.

The next time on, the task was carved out for both parties.

For me, I just had to gesture, and the kids promptly made a queue right next to the peepal tree outside the shop.

So there you go.

Back to our fateful day.

It was the plan as usual. They wanted 'cream-biscuits.' There were five kids that queued up.

By the time I purchased the five packets and came back, I was in for a surprise.

The number increased, now they were seven.

I could sense that savage smile from some of the kids. I kept to myself and just smiled back.

I distributed the five packets to the first five kids in the queue and went back to the shop and purchased the shortfall - 2 more packets of biscuits.

But there was still a problem, the number had changed again, there were nine in the queue now.

The savage smile now turned to giggles.

I went back to the kirana and purchased two more packets, I had four packets of 'cream-biscuits' in my hand now.

When I came outside to the queue, an unlikely problem popped up.

I was simply not prepared for what was awaiting me.

None of the children in the queue had any biscuit packets in their hands.

It was very clear and visible that they had tucked it and hidden them under their frocks/shirts.

Nonetheless, they patiently waited in the queue, their little hands with their dirty fingers open.

None of them spoke a word.

The queue was never straight and was constantly moving like a snake. There was a push from the back in anticipation; and resistance from the front so that they did not cross the tree - their 'Lakshman Rekha' (forbidden line) - as was decided with the shopkeeper.

This was all getting too much, I was just not prepared for any of this.

The onlookers who were initially simply curious now started laughing. Out loud.

Some of them were busy cursing the kids, and the others were outright making fun of me.

Some of them spoke in their local dialect - but one thing was clear, all the onlookers and shop keepers had only two targets, the kids and I.

I'd be lying if I said that I was not getting angry. Of course, I was.

And all those comments and rants only added fuel to the fire.

A selfless act with no acknowledgement is acceptable.

However, an act of aggression by the recipient himself, who is still seeking your charity, puts you in a fix.

And when the world also conspires against you at that instant, you feel aghast, hopeless, embarrassed.

It is not that you don't come out of it, you eventually would, for sure.

And may emerge even stronger and probably a better person.

But then, that instant.

Remove time from this whole life situation, and that instant is prodigious.

Maybe, it is life's way of providing situations after situations so that you learn to cope with it and eventually rise above all of it.

Maybe, it is this very stimulus that opens doors for higher truth.

Maybe, it is essential for you to stay grounded.

Maybe, it is life beyond the glass doors...

....

With emotions running high, there was a solution to get me back to normal right there.

The eyes. Those deep eyes of the children.

Maybe, they probably knew that they were exploiting a charitable gesture. Maybe not.

Maybe, this packet of biscuits is all that they would get to eat that day.

Maybe, one other kind-hearted bloke might add a little more carbs to their diet for that day. Sadly, maybe not.

I looked at the eyes. I just flashed to me

What the heck, a packet of biscuits cost just 10 rupees.

I joyfully yielded, but on one condition.

They'd get more, only if they did reveal what they already took earlier.

As simple as that. And It worked.

Four of the five promptly took out their hidden treasure and held it on one of their hands.

Their other hand still open, expecting one more packet of biscuit.

And they won. Each got two packets, and the youngest one, the shabbiest of the lot, I reckon not a year old yet, the front one in the queue got a lollipop as well. He was the one who did not take out his hidden packet. All the time he was just smiling and kept looking at his sister who kept holding him. He was her responsibility. And she was barely 4.

And then I asked the so-called 'gyan' stuff.

Why did you hide their biscuits?

It is not a good thing to cheat ... blah blah blah...

After a lot of gyan, one boy spoke.

"I don't think my stomach will get full with one packet. So I wanted another."

Then a girl spoke.

Her other siblings at home did not get biscuits and would be equally happy if they got one too. They were hiding only to feed their brothers and sisters who were back in the shanty.

Her answer almost broke me into tears.

And suddenly, I felt light.

I did right. I fed some hungry stomachs.

The anger, the onlookers, the comments, the shabbiness, none of them mattered.

These were just kids by age...

But they were old, by responsibility.

They were old by sibling love.

They were old by numerous days of shared pangs of hunger.

They were old by their desire to live.

They were old, at just 10.