Big city people are vociferous against child labour, yet
unusually blind to it. When I bring you a glass of tea on the roadside, wipe
the tables and clean the utensils, how come I miss your vision without fail?
Years ago, Mohan, our gardener, had kidnapped me from my
home on the hills. Grandpa trusted him with not only the garden but also my
safety, because I would be running around the garden. My parents used to work
in the tea gardens – they returned at the fag end of the day.
Mohan took advantage of their absence and your age, Grandpa.
On a day when clouds descended in a gentle mist, he slipped out with me on his
shoulders... away from you, my family, my roots!!
I am here, Grandpa. Send Papa, please. Tell him to punish all Mohans who rob kids of their childhood. I don’t want to be “Chhotu”..
I am your naughty little brat!!
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Child labour is rising at an alarming rate, friends. Its
time we join hands against it. __
