The Little Boy

When that tiny fellow, carrying a tattered cloth bag, peered into our staff room one lazy summer day, little did I realize he would leave such an impression on me. He hesitated at the door for a couple of minutes before BN ( a colleague ) asked him very gently what he wanted. Looking much younger than his age....he told us later that he was eight though he looked about six....he stood there , a puny little thing, tentative at first but confident enough to say that he was looking for some work. With a smile hovering at the corner of his lips, BN told him that there wasn't anything that he could do around that place ( that, being a College ).

Meanwhile all of us, in the various corners of the room, had stopped our activities, much intrigued by the conversation between the two. Soon the others joined in , patronisingly telling the boy that he shouldn't be playing the fool there and that he should be in a school instead. The boy stood his ground and with a no-nonsense attitude announced that he was there to shine their shoes which looked pathetic in that heat , in any case...thereby earn some money which would ultimately take him to school...."And I can do a mighty good job of that too", he declared with some authority now. That quietened the voices in the staff room immediately; obviously taken aback by the boy's impudence .

Though a trifle startled, some of us had started feeling sorry for the smart aleck of a boy. It felt shameful to allow that little chap to do any work, let alone clean shoes. For some unknown reasons the vision of our own children started floating in front of our eyes. One of the ladies tenderly called him by her side and very discreetly, tried to hand over some money. The reaction of the boy left us all stunned. He turned around, eyes glinting with pride and said, " I don't accept charity, madam, allow me to earn my money"...with that, he promptly sat on the floor and without a word took out the sandals from her reluctant feet and proceeded to clean them. We all sat there dumbfounded...teachers all...but words eluded us at that moment.

Child Labour ? Or Dignity Of Labour ?

When the boy walked out of the staff room, a little later, with a fifty
rupee note in his hand, he had a broad smile on, leaving us all weak-kneed and bleary-eyed....

Contributed by:~ Indigo Iris