"Chotu!
Pick up those cups and wash them too," yelled Ram Singh. Chotu's small
hands working on the plates shivered hearing that voice. He knew the
outcome of that tone very well. He immediately got up to bring the cups.
"I've been seeing recently, you don't do your tasks well!" Ram Singh shouted again.
"Sor..Sorry saab ji," replied Chotu with trembling lips.
"If you do it again, I won't give you the day's wage"
Chotu, a ten year old boy, has to work from 8 am in the morning till 10 pm in the night when the dhaba closes for the day. He lost his father at the age of five and his mother worked as a maid to feed themselves. When Chotu was nine, his mother's health began to deteriorate and he had to leave the primary school to look after his ailing mother. He then started working at Ram Singh's dhaba to bring home 100 rupees per day.
The clock struck ten and it was time for the dhaba to close.
Ram Singh, however cruel he may seem, was actually a saviour for their family. He went mad at times but also helped Chotu with extra money whenever he was in need.
"Here are your 100 rupees chotu. How is your mother now?"
"She is well saab ji."
Chotu went straight to the medical store to purchase his mother's medicine.
"Which medicine do you want?" asked the medical store owner.
"I don't know the name. Here, take the paper which doctor saab has given me."
"Here it is, 70 rupees."
"70 rupees? It was worth 50 last week."
"Prices are increasing on everything. Don't you know?"
Chotu passed the hundred rupee note to the shopkeeper and took the medicine and the thirty rupee change.
He reached home after a walk of two kilometres.
"Here ma, I've brought your medicine."
"Beta! God will make you a great man one day."
~ Next Day ~
A team of social workers headed by Mr. Aniket along with some policemen came to Ram Singh's dhaba.
"How old are you son?" Mr. Aniket asked chotu.
"Ten...why?"
Mr. Aniket turned to Ram Singh, "Aren't you ashamed of keeping such a young child at work?"
"Saab Ji, his mother was ill and they had no source of income."
"I know all your cheap tactics to save yourselves from the fine."
The reporters took a photo of Mr. Aniket along with Ram Singh and Chotu. Ram Singh was fined heavily.
"Social activist Aniket saved a young child," was the local newspaper's article's headline next day with a large picture that was clicked the last day.
Few days passed and nobody actually made an effort to help Chotu's family.
One day Chotu went to Mr. Aniket's office.
"Saab you took my job but no one has tried to provide me any help since then. My mother is very ill saab, help us."
"Arey! Who are you? How did you come in? Where is the gate-keeper?"
"Saab, I am the child who worked at Ram Singh's dhaba."
"I'm busy right now. I'll look into your matter later."
"But saab...my mother..."
"Are you going out or shall I call the guard?" shouted Mr. Aniket.
Chotu ran out, dejected.
In the evening he went to Ram Singh's dhaba. He knew he may get a slap or two from Ram Singh but he had nowhere else to go.
"Saab forgive me for what happened. My mother is ill, please keep me at work."
"Son, it was not your mistake. These people just make money from here and there. Here, take these 200 rupees and purchase medicines for your mother. I'll keep you at work after few days when this matter cools down. Also, tell me if you need anything else."
"I've been seeing recently, you don't do your tasks well!" Ram Singh shouted again.
"Sor..Sorry saab ji," replied Chotu with trembling lips.
"If you do it again, I won't give you the day's wage"
Chotu, a ten year old boy, has to work from 8 am in the morning till 10 pm in the night when the dhaba closes for the day. He lost his father at the age of five and his mother worked as a maid to feed themselves. When Chotu was nine, his mother's health began to deteriorate and he had to leave the primary school to look after his ailing mother. He then started working at Ram Singh's dhaba to bring home 100 rupees per day.
The clock struck ten and it was time for the dhaba to close.
Ram Singh, however cruel he may seem, was actually a saviour for their family. He went mad at times but also helped Chotu with extra money whenever he was in need.
"Here are your 100 rupees chotu. How is your mother now?"
"She is well saab ji."
Chotu went straight to the medical store to purchase his mother's medicine.
"Which medicine do you want?" asked the medical store owner.
"I don't know the name. Here, take the paper which doctor saab has given me."
"Here it is, 70 rupees."
"70 rupees? It was worth 50 last week."
"Prices are increasing on everything. Don't you know?"
Chotu passed the hundred rupee note to the shopkeeper and took the medicine and the thirty rupee change.
He reached home after a walk of two kilometres.
"Here ma, I've brought your medicine."
"Beta! God will make you a great man one day."
~ Next Day ~
A team of social workers headed by Mr. Aniket along with some policemen came to Ram Singh's dhaba.
"How old are you son?" Mr. Aniket asked chotu.
"Ten...why?"
Mr. Aniket turned to Ram Singh, "Aren't you ashamed of keeping such a young child at work?"
"Saab Ji, his mother was ill and they had no source of income."
"I know all your cheap tactics to save yourselves from the fine."
The reporters took a photo of Mr. Aniket along with Ram Singh and Chotu. Ram Singh was fined heavily.
"Social activist Aniket saved a young child," was the local newspaper's article's headline next day with a large picture that was clicked the last day.
Few days passed and nobody actually made an effort to help Chotu's family.
One day Chotu went to Mr. Aniket's office.
"Saab you took my job but no one has tried to provide me any help since then. My mother is very ill saab, help us."
"Arey! Who are you? How did you come in? Where is the gate-keeper?"
"Saab, I am the child who worked at Ram Singh's dhaba."
"I'm busy right now. I'll look into your matter later."
"But saab...my mother..."
"Are you going out or shall I call the guard?" shouted Mr. Aniket.
Chotu ran out, dejected.
In the evening he went to Ram Singh's dhaba. He knew he may get a slap or two from Ram Singh but he had nowhere else to go.
"Saab forgive me for what happened. My mother is ill, please keep me at work."
"Son, it was not your mistake. These people just make money from here and there. Here, take these 200 rupees and purchase medicines for your mother. I'll keep you at work after few days when this matter cools down. Also, tell me if you need anything else."
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