Anwar

My name is Anwar. I live on the streets of Mumbai and am a rag picker by profession. I don't know how old I am, and I don't know who my parents are. I was found by Mariam apa about five years ago on Falkland Road, Mumbai's infamous red light area, in South Mumbai. According to her I must be around eight as she perceives me to have been three when she found me.

Mariam apa passed away last month and I am on my own again. I generally work the area from Mahim to Andheri, rummaging dustbins for plastic, paper, and anything else of value. I make about 40 rupees a day, which takes care of my food. But I would have liked life to be different.

When I observe life on the streets, at signals, when I see children going to school with their parents, when I see children traveling in cars, playing at parks, I ponder how it would be to have a roof over my head. I wonder how it would be to have a mother, a father, brothers and sisters. I wonder how it would be to sit with family and have a meal.

My heart yearns for a mother's love, father's care. How I wish I could go to school, study and make it in the real world. I long for some one to call me bhaiyya (brother). It's the holy month of Ramzan, and when I see kids along with parents going to pray, breaking their fast in the evening, I, in my heart, ask God why am I lonely? Why do I not have anyone to call family, why is it that I do not have a place to call home?

I wonder how it feels to be fed by a mother. How it feels to be scolded by a father when I do something wrong. I yearn for a family, I wish I could study, I wish for a life different from the one that I live.

But I know that all I could do is yearn, for life is the way it is. It's fair to some, unfair to others. Then I take solace in the fact that I am not the only one without a roof over my head. There are millions like me in this county called India. Millions of children who aimlessly roam the streets of the country, who have no future, nowhere to go, nothing to achieve.

Mariam apa used to tell me that children are God's gift to mankind. Now she is no more and as I sit and recollect her words, I start doubting them. If children were God's gift to mankind, then why are so many like me wandering the streets? Why are so many like me abandoned by parents? Don't they believe in God, don't they love their own flesh and blood?

Sometimes on a bad day when I haven't earned anything, hunger forces me to seek alms. Most don't give any, but they do make it a point to tell me mehnat karo (work). At that time I feel sad, it hurts. I ask myself, aren't children supposed to be God's gift to mankind.? Aren't children supposed to study and play? Aren't children supposed to be sans survival worries? Are children supposed to work when they are supposed to be studying, leading a protected and secure life?

I know the answer is yes, they are meant to be without survival worries. Then why am I on the streets, why am I at such an young age working for a living? I will grow up illiterate. Don't I have a right to live life as other fortunate children? Or am I condemned to a life of misery forever?
I search for answers but find none. Do you have one?