JHUGGI......

When he was being born, his mother faced complications; there was no medical assistance and despite everyone’s apprehensions and fear, he took birth, on his own, as they say. Therefore, he was named ‘Doctor’.

Doctor was one of the few children I met in one of the ‘Palnaghars’ (crèches) run by a local NGO. Doctor was a four year old child, whose mother worked at the nearby brick kilns and other construction sites. Doctor had never seen his father. In fact after his mother was two months pregnant, she never saw her husband. Some said that he had fled to the faraway Middle east, others said that he had died in some accident, yet some said that he had re-married and settled in Mumbai. Whatever the explanations were, Doctor’s mother had to keep the wheels rolling and the hearth, burning; so she moved on.

Many children, living in the Adarsh nagar slum were not as lucky as Doctor to spend the daytime at a crèche. Doctor’s neighbour, 10 year old, Pikloo did not go to the crèche. He spent the mornings at a local school and during the afternoons, he was on his own, sometimes playing with his mates near the railway track with marbles or sometimes peeping into Usha aunty’s shack , to watch the programmes in the portable black and white TV.

Unlike Pikloo’s elder two sisters, he did not go for daily wage. He went to school. His parents worked hard and dreamed that one day Pikloo will earn enough to have a better house and a decent life. They, however, did not have any dreams for their two daughters. They are much too afraid to entertain any dream for the girls.

Doctor’s mother, Pikloo’s parents, Usha aunty and her husband had all arrived from the neighbouring villages with the hope that a city life will give them all that their small land in the villages did not give. In return, they lost their peace, privacy and security. Usha aunty remembers, in the village they lived, she never had to worry about carrying her husband to the hospital; whenever he was sick, there were neighbours or relatives taking turns to be with her husband.

Usha aunty reached the city in search of a better earning, after selling off the little land to pay for her perpetually ill husband’s treatment.

And what have Pikloo and his sisters lost? Much more than just their childhood! The ten year old Pikloo is a witness to the drama of a cruel life being staged at the Adarsh Nagar Slum. In the one room hut that the entire family shares, Pikloo has witnessed the daily quarrels between his parents, he has overheard his parents blaming the Government, cursing the school-teacher, hating the municipality and above all, cursing God!

Pikloo knows that Mahee maasi in one of the huts is seriously ill and bedridden. He also knows that her entire family was very ashamed of her illness and so had left her suffering here, alone. Mahee maasi’s husband also abused her; beat her up before he left the slum. Pikloo has witnessed where from Usha aunty earns the money for her husband’s treatment. He knows what happens when, in the dark vigil of night, heavy trucks stop at the highway far away and he knows why Usha aunty goes out of her hut then.

Pikloo’s mother sometimes says that they will place him for adoption. About that, Pikloo has big dreams and small hopes! He visualises himself, being adopted by some affluent businessman and his wife, whom he will un-reluctantly accept as ‘Mummy’ and ‘Daddy’; he visualises that one day he will return to the slum, just to meet his family, wearing red-black striped shirt and knee-length denim with six pockets. He will arrive in a car and while his Mummy and Daddy will wait near the car, he will slowly approach his ‘old’ house and meet his family. His old friends and neighbours will gather to see the affluent businessman’s son as he will take out little gifts for everybody; wrist watches for his sisters, a sari for mother and a nice white shirt for father.

And what do Pikloo’s sisters dream? They often, in their dreams, travel to their village, in the shelter of the unending blue sky and the banyan tree where they have left their clay dolls. They long to return to that land to complete the unfinished play....


Photographs: fron internet