ROTI

My name is irrelevant. It's my story that matters.And I am saying it because I know that there are more like me out there who haven't mustered the courage yet. I am their voice, for now.

I live a few blocks away from the most posh area in the city. I live in the largest slum settlement in Asia. That's something to be proud of, right?

I have two siblings; I wish I had parents. My job is very demanding. I am constantly on the run, waiting for the next red signal, literally. I have to market myself well if I want to make any money. And my 'boss', just like most others, is a terror. I do lead a very eventful life but you'd never want to trade lives with me. I am a beggar.
I went to school till I was 10 and then bhai (my boss) decided to take my siblings and me into his business. We couldn't resist, we didn't have the right to. If I had said anything, you wouldn't be reading my story. I remember that day very clearly, the three of us stood in front of him, scared. We had heard of this 'screening process' before , but never thought we'd be the victims. He stared at us for a long time. His men looked at us eagerly like hawks waiting to swoop down and catch their prey. I didn't understand it. Then finally, he spoke.

He told his men the first one was okay. The hawks had missed their first catch. The second one needed some work here and there. My sister was taken to a room and in a few minutes I heard her screaming. I knew what they were doing but I didn't dare to move. His cold eyes were now directed at me. He took longer than usual to judge me; I needed a lot of work. He told his men that I didn't look 'beggar enough'. They were waiting to hear just that.

It has been a year since and my siblings and I report to bhai and hand over our earnings, in exchange for a roti. Somedays if I haven't got enough money I have to sleep hungry. Bhai's is the biggest business of this kind; almost 900 children like me. And it's difficult to hide anything from bhai because he has his men all around us. They wait patiently for us to falter. They too have to earn their roti, right?

Everyday I stretch out my hands and stick my face to the clean windows of polished cars asking people to help me earn my roti. I wish I were on the other side of the window. I live under this false hope that someday I will be able to make a change in the world; that I won't let my present be some child's future. I want to bring an end to all the injustice. I wish...

Imagine all those children you see on the streets, did you even once think where all that money went. No one even tries to scratch the surface. People are either sympathetic or apathetic but they won't accept our reality, even if they know it. More than bhai's beatings, it's people's ignorance that hurts. So much for your good deed for the day!
- sharanya