Uncle Ji, Mazaburi A… – Harish Monga

After a long time, today was my third day of cycling and I took a different route than usual. When I reached the road of the city’s railway station, an 11-12-year-old boy riding a bicycle met me, waving his hand in the air and saying, “Uncle, your bicycle has gears.” I replied yes and it was done with me. Going forward, he again said, Uncle, change its gears, and I said, when they climb the bridge, I drive in gear.

He started telling me about his own bicycle and I got it painted at night, I am very fond of cycling.

After peddling to some distance, I got off the bike and asked him casually, what is your name and do you study, then he immediately said yes, uncle, my name is Ajay, I used to study in class five but not now. I wanted to know more about this ‘not now’ and asked, what’s the matter, he doesn’t read? So, on this this young child, in his heavy voice, said, ‘Uncle ji, I must…Mazburi e’

This created a curiosity in me to know this pressure and wanted to know more about his compulsion.  On this, he answered in one breath – my father is a drunkard, my mother is old, we are two brothers, my sister is no more, I work in a shop for five thousand, my elder brother work in another shop  for nine thousand and that’s all the whole family lives on this.

After that I took a memorable photo with him and took him to the railway station where there was a Sharma tea stall to have tea, but he said no, no, my mother would be waiting to drink tea with me.  He doesn’t drink tea outside the house.  But this reminded me of my mother, who is no longer in this world, who too used to wait for me too.

Before I could ask him anything else, he pedalled his bike at a fast pace towards his house and I was lost in thought with many questions to my mind – how many more children like this Ajay are going to be,  as to how he has been forced to drop out of education and take care of the family, how many other fathers like his father will be there who will be a burden on the other members of the family because of lack of income and drinking on children’s income and so on.  Can’t the government stop alcohol which is destroying the families? They too should understand their responsibility.

Surrounded by all these questions, I also reached home on my bicycle. My better half quickly made tea and as I drank, the words of the child with a bicycle – Uncle Ji, Mazaburi A… – were echoing in my mind.