His hand was the first thing I noticed about him tiny,swarthy,dehydrated maybe because he was never washed with gentle baby products when he was an infant or because he was busy preparing corn cobs with those hands for passerbys to earn money.I told him to make one for me and gave him a 10 rupee note which brought a twinkle in his eyes which i could see through my heart, the cob was worth more than that note.I watched him with motherly eyes, this tiny little fellow of about 6-7 years of age was turning and tossing the cob on the coal bed which was burning red and got redder every time he fanned it sending sparks around, I stepped backwards frightened that one or two may land on my naked feet but he my tiny little hero braved the fire and kept fanning it so that my cob could just turn out to be perfect and the best in the world.I wondered if he ever had one of those delicious corn himself or did the cruel hands of poverty made him sacrifice his desire for much needed money.By the time i was lost in my thoughts my cob was ready with the right amount of black salt and lime juice applied over it.He gave me the cob with a satisfaction in his eyes for a job well done.I took it and thanked him the only thing i could do for him at that time and wondered what will he do when he grows up- will the world treat him nicely,will he get an education,will he be successful.Countless other question hovered around my mind,then to comfort myself i told myself that children who don't get a childhood are taken care by a higher power, they'll land in safe hands, will find their happiness in simple things life offers and like a corn cob will ripen and mature to face the extremities of a path laden with red hot coals... but only to be eaten by people like us!!.....with that i sighed again....
But all i felt was pain