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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Survival / Success
- Subject: Life Experience
- Published: 08/10/2013
THE YOUNG MINSTREL
Born 1977, F, from KOLKATA, India.jpg)
The young minstrel
“Nafrat ki duniya ko chhor kar, pyaar ki duniya mein khush rahena mera yaar…..”
(My friend be happy in the world of love, after deserting this world of hatred….)
I was taken aback by a melodious singing voice trying to earn money for a meal as I was sitting in a bus. I turned my attention from the blue sky, the mighty Hoogly flowing underneath the Vidyasagar Setu, to the young boy of nine in blue tattered clothes, deserted by separated mother and father, persuading the passengers to give him alms.
The sweet voice enthralled me and evoked a feeling of pathos. On the other hand, his song seemed a perfect background to picturesque nature. The boy got down as we neared the Rabindra Sadan bus stand giving the sweetest of smiles as ‘thanks for the alms’. But I pondered on the suffering of the boy- no papa kisses him and no mummy smiles at him, at this ‘nobody’s child’.
Days passed, months rolled by, and my feelings gradually became blurred until one day I saw people crowding over the road in front of my house. It was the same blue tattered shirt, the same face wearing the sweetest of smiles lying in a pool of blood. The sight had sent a chill down my spine.
Why does God inflict suffering on these poor children? Why is nature so cruel and indifferent to a small boy striving to earn a livelihood? These questions reverberate in my mind.
Though Children’s Day is long over or is yet to come, let us all promise to help at least one distressed child who is in search for happiness.
“Nafrat ki duniya ko chhor kar, pyaar ki duniya mein khush rahena mera yaar…..”
(My friend be happy in the world of love, after deserting this world of hatred….)
I was taken aback by a melodious singing voice trying to earn money for a meal as I was sitting in a bus. I turned my attention from the blue sky, the mighty Hoogly flowing underneath the Vidyasagar Setu, to the young boy of nine in blue tattered clothes, deserted by separated mother and father, persuading the passengers to give him alms.
The sweet voice enthralled me and evoked a feeling of pathos. On the other hand, his song seemed a perfect background to picturesque nature. The boy got down as we neared the Rabindra Sadan bus stand giving the sweetest of smiles as ‘thanks for the alms’. But I pondered on the suffering of the boy- no papa kisses him and no mummy smiles at him, at this ‘nobody’s child’.
Days passed, months rolled by, and my feelings gradually became blurred until one day I saw people crowding over the road in front of my house. It was the same blue tattered shirt, the same face wearing the sweetest of smiles lying in a pool of blood. The sight had sent a chill down my spine.
Why does God inflict suffering on these poor children? Why is nature so cruel and indifferent to a small boy striving to earn a livelihood? These questions reverberate in my mind.
Though Children’s Day is long over or is yet to come, let us all promise to help at least one distressed child who is in search for happiness.
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