An Article on Street Children: True Real Life Sad Story of a Street Child & Child Labour Pictures

Story of a street child

The last leaf of the winter has fallen on the ground

No cloud in the sky, only infinitive emptiness over the head

The atmosphere is obscure and the night is misty

As if everywhere a mystery unfolded is embedded,

Acute silence all over, seems like the night is dead.

A big yellow moon floating in the sky

Scared air tries to escape in the warmth of the body

Nomad breeze pierce into the skin like sharp knife

Shadow of own structure scares from time to time

The leafless woods look like demons and the

Buildings around appears to be a death valley

Everything is surprisingly unmoved yet a strange business everywhere

The strange soft light of the moon condense the darkness even more

Drops of heavy fog fall on the forehead and triggers déjà vu

Scream comes up from the naval root but gets struck in the throat

Warm tears trickle down the chick of the little boy silently, cautiously

The little bare footed, hungry child doesn’t know its identity,

It doesn’t know to whom to pray for dawn to come quickly

Alone in the dark street at the deep of the night

The scared little boy shivering in clod fists its wrist

Presses the jaws with inhuman strength and closes its eyes

Seconds, minutes and hours pass through, the boy fall asleep

With the first ray of the dawn the little street child wake up with some dirty street dogs

Rubbing the eyes, jerking the body the lonely child tries to wipe out the fear of last night

With day progress in search of food the little kid roam around the filthy streets

And seeks for a piece of thrown-away rotten sandwich in the dustbin

Competes with street dogs for food all the day and again comes the evening

With fear, cold and an image of a city with no affection or pity

Time passes through, hunger and skin disease scares the boy every moment

All the darker aspects of life surround the boy and try to squeeze him every moment

Endless time on hand for the boy but hardly a minute to spare to dream

Without knowing its name, with knowing what love is the little boy grows up

One day it plucks some roadside flowers and tries to sell each piece for ten cent

Gorgeous girls, lovely kids, affectionate fathers and loving husbands buy a few of those after a quick bargain

But with the trees cut down the little child lost its way to run the new business

The street child with curious dark big eyes with infinitive depth and mysterious light in that

In desperation of food one day it steals some flower and get caught by the gardener

The conscious society men can’t stand with such a big sin of stealing

A group of aware people rush into the spot quickly and become much overwhelmed with such a big sin in such a little age

They can’t hide their shame and start beating the child to teach the morals of life and the socials laws

The scream out “bustard” and slap and kick the boy so that every tissue of the body get the message of the trail of such a big sin

Blood bursts out from the tender lips and the little kid can’t bear it

Yet it doesn’t shed a single drop of tear, it’s just happy to discover its name “BUSTARD” after wondering about what was its name for so many days.

It knew there are two types of living being in the world one is human who has names and lives in home and gets food to eat, dress to wear

And another is street dogs that don’t need a shelter, name and has to eat the waste over of human though the little ones get milk to drink from their mothers.

The little child was always confused whether it was a human being or a dog

As it had a life of a street dog and a shape of a human.

Today is the big occasion for the child; the group of human again scream out “you son of a bitch”

The street child is about to lose its sense yet it can hear the scream and be sure of its identity “SON OF A BITCH”

Ah, what a pleasure, identity and name in a nutshell, what a pleasure!!

The poor child closes its eyes so that none can look at his eyes and understand what he has discovered

The little lonely kid hides its secret in the deep of its heart

And forgets all the pain before becoming unconscious

The gathering lightens slowly, few new comers started to regret not to reach quickly to the spot to participate the noble deed of beating a nasty thief. But they don't lose hope.

They could still offer some free kicks to the unconscious boy and try to take the pride of giving it identity whispering the two golden words for the boy “son of a bitch” and “bustard” once again before leaving.

Then a storm over a nearby tea stall, someone speak up “What happened to our society, full of thief, in every lane, in every road you will find some thieves, sigh”, someone else, “How daring, stealing in such a young age, what will it do when it will get older, sigh!!” and another intellectual said, “How long we will protect our society from these insects of hell? Everyone has to be conscious to wipe out these garbage from the society”, everyone else shake their head and announce their consent to those invaluable words.

The life of the little kid has been stolen but it’s no big deal as we all know stealing for food is always a far greater sin than stealing a life. Whatever it is, there was a happy ending of the evening. Everyone was happy to take part in a noble social work and the little street child was happy to discover its identity.

Another night came down to the world. Some lucky kids managed to discover their identity, some others were yet to find that luck. Seconds, minutes and days passed through. Nights passed through and mornings came, winter gone away and spring came but the dark cold night, the fear, the world of no pity, the sense of no identity never left those street children.