Melting my Heart - Part 1

How it all started.

I’m stuck at a traffic signal, peak hour, on the main road between Bandra and Mahim, when I suddenly heard a knock on my car window.

It’s a little boy selling books - the regular pirated “maal” one gets at most big signals in Mumbai. The boy is saying something to me, I’m distracted, thinking of the meetings in the day ahead, so I shake my head.

Then I see him point out towards Mahim. I realise he’s not talking to me about buying books, so I slide down the window & put my eyebrows up, “Kya?”

He wants a lift. To Siddhivinayak Temple.

I hesitate for a split second. I’m a girl alone, I think. Then I look at his face, which for the first time I realise is so angelic and I know what I must do.

I unlock the doors & tell him to get in the back.

Suddenly they’re two of them.

Who is he? I enquire of the second boy. He’s my brother, he’s with me, comes pat the reply.

I feel a bit taken, but boy 2 is so small, it’s possible he was standing next to boy 1 the whole time and I couldn’t see him from out the car window.

The signal is still red, so I take the time to photograph my two passengers and get acquainted with them:

Boy 1, right in the picture, does all the talking. He’s Ramesh and the brother is Dhinesh.

Why are you going to Siddhivinayak? I inquire. Because business is slow at this signal, over there they’ll get good sale, Ramesh tells me.

Their ‘tale’.

Then suddenly he says; I go to school.

You do? I ask, very pleased. My heart goes out to this smiling boy, selling books by day - not begging - and studying by night, which is when I assume he goes to school.

But he then says to me - Yes I do. But not this month, I don’t have money to pay the fees.

He proceeds to tell me the monthly fees is Rs. 150/- but they don’t have it this month. That’s why they’re selling books. As soon as they make enough money, they’re going to pay next month’s fees and go to school next month.

The name of a school is, Guru Nanak something-or-the-other, in Parel. I’m quizzing them, but the answers are coming quickly. Inside my head, I smile cynically. I’m impressed with the details in the whole story, lot of thought gone into making it up, by some criminal lord no doubt, I think. Definitely enough to appeal to some blue-eyed phirang who’s unacquainted with our corrupt begging industry.

Then for another brief second, I wonder. Sure I know the chances are for this whole story being a contrived one, aimed at getting money out of people, but, just on the off chance - what if it were true? What if there was a 1% chance that this story was not a story, but the truth?

Perhaps it’s was because they were just so sweet. Perhaps it’s because I’m reading Shantaram. Perhaps it’s because it’s meant to be this way. Perhaps God is telling me to do this.

I don’t know which one, but I find myself telling them that I’ll pay their fees for the month. One part of me is snickering at myself for being taken in by the situation. The other part of me is saying, so what, it’s only 300 rupees - and maybe, just maybe, you can make a difference in their lives.

I turn into Hans Christian Andersan.

So the WHOLE way from Bandra to Siddhivinayak, I talk to them. I tell them they can be anyone they want to be. (Ramesh pipes in and tell me that they want to be a lawyer and a policeman). I tell them that I’ll never see them again and I’ll never know what they use the money for but if they do go to school - it will be good for them. It will be hard, school always is, but they will rise if they persevere. I tell them that I too sometimes found school annoying. That I too work hard.

I tell them the story of my drug addicted friend who never even made it to college (They interrupt & tell me no one should peddle drugs otherwise the police will catch them ) I tell them that she used drugs and didn’t peddle them. That despite rich parents, she is not advancing her life in anyway. She is so dead despite being alive.

I tell them another story of my friend, who used to stay in a slum. She told me once, “please don’t feel bad but I’ll never take you home, understand that I can’t”. Today she is in another part of the world, working in a good MNC, with a great husband and two kids. Her husband too wasn’t overly rich, but they struggled together, worked hard together and they did manage to rise.

I tell them that one day they can be driving a car and they can give some boy a lift. They can be the ones making things better for others. I tell them story after story, inspirational thought after thought. In my mind, I hope, maybe one of these things will sink in deep enough. Possibly, maybe, hopefully, one will catch root.

And for that short moment in the history of the world, we connect.

In between my story-telling, they ask me intimate questions about my life, with the authority of a close friend. I partially amused, but mostly attracted to their innocence, answer all their questions as honestly as I know how.

They show me their books and ask me if I read. I do, I tell them. I tell them Gregory David Robert’s story (they know the name Shantaram, but not the story). I don’t know the story fully either (I’m done only with 4/5 of the book) but I know enough to make it inspiring for them. The fact Amitabh Bachchan is acting in the movie version lights their eyes up.

Ramesh tells me he acted with Aamir Khan recently. He “acts” as a poor boy selling books at Chowpatty Beach where Aamir Khan is. Some movie starting with T (an upcoming one). I promise to see it (I make a mental note to later ask Saks which of Aamir Khan’s upcoming movies start with T & she does not disappoint me).

And then, almost too soon, Siddhivinayak comes.

I feel like hugging them goodbye. I give them Rs. 500 - towards a months fees and towards two books that they’ve persuaded me to buy - The Namesake (yes, it’s about time I read it) and Khaled Hosseini’s A Thousand Splendid Suns

I tell them again, that I won’t ever know what they do with the money, but if they want to be someone in the world, they should go to school and study.

Ramesh tells me; you won’t know, but “Bhagvan upper se sab dekta hai” God above sees all.

I shake hands with them and look at them in my rear view mirror till I can’t anymore. Then I pray for them, for their souls. That one day, they will indeed be all they dream for themselves.

Tags: Begging-Industry, Books, Cynicism, Drugs, Gregory-David-Roberts, Hope, India, Inspiration, Mumbai, Peak-Hour-Traffic, Pirated-Books, Rags-to-Riches, Riches-to-Rags, School, Shantaram, Siddhivinayak-Temple, Study, Traffic-Signals