letter in the alley

 

Prompt: Waiting to catch the bus you see a young boy look both ways before entering an alley. When you follow him into the alley, he has disappeared. Instead, there is a note lying on the pavement. What does it say and how do you react?

I picked up the note wondering where the boy in red-check shirt had disappeared all of a sudden. It was  a narrow, badly lit alley and to read the note I had to go under a street light.

The night was windy and I clutched the piece of paper scared I might lose it. The note read, "I have run away from 'Uddhar', the orphanage I was sent to after my parents died. The warden is a bad man and wants to catch me so that I do not go to the police for help. My name is Ramesh. Please save me."

The handwriting was of a ten year-old child. I wondered what I should do. Should I go to the police and ask for their help in tracing the boy or come back later in the morning and look for him myself.

I decided on the latter. Next day I was back with my friend Usha, who worked in urban slums and with street children. We decided to move around pretending to be conducting a general survey. In our khadi kurtas and jholas and with cameras hanging over our shoulders, we looked the typical volunteers from an NGO. The next move was to get all the children out of their homes on some pretext.

"We are making a film on children and want all the children to participate. Each child will get a gift for attending the session", announced Usha, to the women near the hand pump. There were several children around helping their mothers and they ran excitedly towards Usha. In a couple of hours we had fifty children auditioning for various roles. As the cameras kept rolling, we waited for that one boy  whom we had come to rescue.

Both Usha and I grew worried by late afternoon. Had we taken too much into our hands. We were not sure whether going to the police would have been a better option. Just when we were about to wind up for the day, we heard a voice, "Will you audition me"?

From behind the tea-stall a small head appeared, "Is it going to be like the Slum dog millionaire?" he asked. "Of course, it could be something similar," replied Usha, happy to be the next Mira Nair.

I knew instinctively that the head belonged to Ramesh, the boy who had written the note. He had been there right in front of us, hiding, watching us work with the children throughout the day, taking his time to trust us. He came forward slowly, and looked into my eyes and smiled. His face looked  innocent but the bruises on his neck, hands, feet revealed the torture he had experienced. Usha, looked at me and whispered, "Should we now go the police?"

For some unknown reason I could not reply. "Let me take him home for now. He needs to take a bath, eat food and sleep comfortably. We can decide tomorrow." I heard myself say after a few minutes.

 Being a single forty-year-old woman I had been chasing adoption agencies to adopt a child for the last six months. Here was Ramesh, a child who needed a home, a mother and love. Was it  destined that I find Ramesh and take him home away from the cruel, and unsafe world into which he had been thrown after his parents died? Usha, guessed my thoughts from my expression. "Let me take a picture of you both together."

 The next morning there was a post from Usha. She had sent a picture, she had clicked the day before, with a message that read, "Letter in the alley has finally reached its right destination." In the frame were a smiling Ramesh and me looking like a family already.