Kavita has been going to Rung School of Music and Arts for the past 2 weeks. Rung School is located in F-8 Markaz. I saw the flyer for it during one of my evening walks.
After dropping her at the school, I would usually spend the early afternoon at the Red Door café next door.
At least twice a day, I would be accosted by the begging girls. Are they children of children of Afghani refugees created by the civil war in the 80s? Are they children of internal refugees from the north western areas?
The girls are clad in colourful shalwar kameez, their heads covered. The faces are angelic but they cling to you, follow you, their palms facing you, asking for money. They don't leave your side.
They laugh, make faces, and ask for money.
"But who leaves these small girls here"? I asked shopkeepers around. They say, cars leave them and then pick them up. "The parents are bad."
I saw some women give them bags of crisps.
People become apathetic over time at seeing begging children. It becomes part of the scene. And, this is only Islamabad, a small artificial city. In bigger cities, begging is more visible and in bigger numbers.
The linger around in the plaza all day long, sitting and playing on stairs following people around.
There are some tiny little girls and, then older girls who, I saw, get into scrapes with each other. I saw one girl make a mean face at another one and, then I started imagining their street lives.
One girl followed me into the car and, I frustratedly gave her 10 rupees, knowingly that one should not give money to begging children. Another one followed me and, then she was hit by another car in the car park, by the side mirror. She wept and we came out to see and then we drove off. I was extremely angry, helpless and sad. Should we take her to a doctor, I wondered.
The Careem driver said the father must be on drugs and forces his children to beg.
What kind of society do we live in? Do we have any programmes to rehabilitate the population which is forced to beg? Who is there to protect these children from this harsh life?
How does one feel, leaving one's child to attend an air conditioned school where she will learn music and art and, where, small girls are left to beg in the sweltering heat, often without slippers, following people to beg or playing on the dirty floor and stairs? What kind of moral universe do we exist in where such inequality and random luck dictate lives?
After dropping her at the school, I would usually spend the early afternoon at the Red Door café next door.
At least twice a day, I would be accosted by the begging girls. Are they children of children of Afghani refugees created by the civil war in the 80s? Are they children of internal refugees from the north western areas?
The girls are clad in colourful shalwar kameez, their heads covered. The faces are angelic but they cling to you, follow you, their palms facing you, asking for money. They don't leave your side.
They laugh, make faces, and ask for money.
"But who leaves these small girls here"? I asked shopkeepers around. They say, cars leave them and then pick them up. "The parents are bad."
I saw some women give them bags of crisps.
People become apathetic over time at seeing begging children. It becomes part of the scene. And, this is only Islamabad, a small artificial city. In bigger cities, begging is more visible and in bigger numbers.
The linger around in the plaza all day long, sitting and playing on stairs following people around.
There are some tiny little girls and, then older girls who, I saw, get into scrapes with each other. I saw one girl make a mean face at another one and, then I started imagining their street lives.
One girl followed me into the car and, I frustratedly gave her 10 rupees, knowingly that one should not give money to begging children. Another one followed me and, then she was hit by another car in the car park, by the side mirror. She wept and we came out to see and then we drove off. I was extremely angry, helpless and sad. Should we take her to a doctor, I wondered.
The Careem driver said the father must be on drugs and forces his children to beg.
What kind of society do we live in? Do we have any programmes to rehabilitate the population which is forced to beg? Who is there to protect these children from this harsh life?
How does one feel, leaving one's child to attend an air conditioned school where she will learn music and art and, where, small girls are left to beg in the sweltering heat, often without slippers, following people to beg or playing on the dirty floor and stairs? What kind of moral universe do we exist in where such inequality and random luck dictate lives?
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