I was strolling down the street on that fine morning and the air smelled refreshingly sweet after last night’s drizzle. The street was filled with rain water, a typical monsoon scene, and I had to jump over a puddle every two steps. I was too busy trying to avoid getting mud on my dress that I didn’t notice him when he called behind me.


“Oh, hello, Excuse me!”

  I didn’t answer.

“Excuse me madam!” This time I turned around and gave him a puzzled look.

 He looked back at me curiously and said;

 “Could you please get out of my way? I’m late already.”

I again stared at him, still confused, but i moved aside to give him way.
There was something unusual about him. He looked young, probably in his early teens. He was of average height and built with wheatish complexion. He was wearing a worn-out jeans and a violet colored t-shirt. But his most distinct feature was his eyes, the eyes of a doe. So truthful, honest and endearing that they captivated me.
He was walking past me when I interrupted him,

“What’s your name?”

He stared at me, clearly annoyed.

 “I’m Harish. Can I go now? I’m in a hurry.” I could sense his impatience from his tone.

“Hey, wait! Where are you going?” I asked curiously.

This time he got furious. “I’m going to the nearby saw mill. I’m already late and if my supervisor gets there before me then I’ll be in big trouble. He’ll even cut half of my wage and then I’ll have nothing to give to my Ma. Are you satisfied now? And if u want to know my age then I’m 14 yrs already and I can work. And please don’t show any baseless sympathy. I don’t study nor do I want to. I’ve had enough of this crap from people like you.”

I was a little surprised at such an unexpected reply and didn’t know how to react so I remained silent.

“Move!” he said with a mix of impatience, annoyance and anger in his voice.

I could not comprehend why I went on at him like that but I did. I again asked,

 “How long have you been working?”

“I have been working for the last 6 years, ever since my father died.”

I noticed a hint of sadness in his voice as I saw his eyes flicker and turn misty. So I tried to change the conversation.

“Who gave you the shirt you are wearing?”

“My supervisor. He says I look cool in it.” He said with a glint of happiness in his eyes.

On his t-shirt, it was written;


“NO JOB.
 NO MONEY.
 NO GIRL.
 I’M HOPELESS!”

I grinned at him and also at his innocence. Then I took out my purse and offered him a 100 rupees note. He suddenly turned serious and said with a tinge of anger in his voice;

“I’m not a beggar madam. I have a job and I can earn for myself and my ma. I don’t need your money. I’m already late because of you. Now please let me go.”

He turned and walked away without even looking back. After he was gone, I pondered over the very thought that why had I been captivated by an emaciated street-urchin? I looked at the street itself n asked it the same. The street glowered at me. I felt disturbed and went back home.
                                                                         
I had a dream that night and I saw the same teenaged kid, but he was older, maybe in his early twenties. He looked nothing like how I saw him in the morning. He had lost his innocence, his eyes no more looked truthful or honest. A violent and stinging stare of a hard-core criminal was all I could see in his eyes. For a couple of days I thought about him but I know that I will eventually forget that ever met the boy. I’ll be engrossed in my world; my problems; my happiness and my delights.

If Life is predestined, then perhaps Harish and the likes of him have been ordained to suffer by God. What can I or anyone else in this society do?

How many such Harish’s have YOU come across?