Story of a Mumbai street kidSadak Chhaap by Meher Pestonji;
Penguin Books; Price: Rs.250; 190 pp.
According to an
Amnesty International report (1999), 18 million children eke out a hazardous existence on the mean streets of India’s ill-planned, under-served cities where 40-60 percent of the population live in squalid slums. With railway platforms, bus stations and other public spaces serving as their homes, doing odd jobs, scavenging rubbish dumps and begging, they are easy prey to paedophiles, gangsters, unscrupulous businessmen and drug and substance dealers. With no education, skills or training these children have to fend for themselves in an environment in which even the beat policeman is usually a predator.
Sadak Chhaap (‘Mark of the Street’) is a work of fiction based on the lives of
street children in Mumbai. Its protagonist is ten years old. Rahul a typical street kid living on a
railway platform. A sprightly lad, he has run away from a village which he himself doesn’t remember. But unlike his peers who are resigned to life on the street Rahul is determined to rise up and move out.
The main characters of the book are an eclectic mix of people ranging from Karim Bhai (a fruit stall owner and father figure), Bablu (his best friend, also a street kid), Aparna (who works at Sharan — a shelter for street children), Chameli (a flower seller on whom Rahul has a secret crush) and baby Kajol. There are other characters in supportive roles including street children Victor and Shekar, vendors Hamid, Heera etc, who are not quite fleshed out, but are important to complete the plot of the narrative.
Written by Meher Pestonji, a freelance journalist and social worker, whose earlier works include Mixed Marriage and Other Parsi Stories, Pervez: A Novel, and Piano for Sale, a play, Sadak Chhaap is the outcome of her voluntary work with street children in Mumbai. The narrative begins on a railway platform, where Rahul, feasting on a stolen mango spots a small package on a neighbouring bench. In the hope of chancing upon some food, clothes or a blanket, he opens the package to discover a half-burnt baby with ants crawling all over her face. He runs to Sharan and approaches Aparna who heads the shelter, to rescue the child.
The child is taken to hospital for treatment and is saved in the nick of time. Rahul christens her Kajol after his favourite Bollywood movie star. Soon Kajol is moved to an orphanage in Vashi, a distant suburb of Mumbai and in appreciation of his good turn, Rahul is offered the job of a gardener in the orphanage. He seems to be moving up in life, but typically the management of the institution demands a stiff price in terms of total obedience and conformity. For the small misdemeanour of sneaking out to watch a movie and meeting his old friends on the street, he is found out and sacked from his job. Kajol is given away in adoption and Rahul is denied the privilege of meeting with her.
Without shelter and jobless again, Rahul shifts base to the streets near the
Gateway of India which offer new challenges. To survive on these mean streets he begins running drugs and becomes a male prostitute at the age of twelve. On one such sexual assignment Rahul is badly abused by a firang (foreign) sexual pervert, Greg. This traumatic experience plunges him into further despair for which drugs are the only pain killers. But his friends at Sharan rescue him and enroll him for detox sessions.
Pestonji weaves a fast-paced and absorbing narrative which is a window looking out on the brutal streets of Mumbai, where millions of impoverished children are left to fend for themselves. Living in the shadows of the city’s plush 5-star hotels where gastronomic excess and effete luxury are a way of life, for these Fagin’s children hunger is a constant companion. Rahul steals a bicycle to save bus fare; lies to keep Kajol within reach and eventually succumbs to the lure of affectionate paedophiles. Pestonji’s vocab and descriptive power highlights the despair of these helpless children and her portrayal of street life has the stamp of authenticity. Moreover the direct, simple and sensitive plot into which her social message is woven, makes compelling reading.
Sadak Chhaap is a simply told tale whose subtext is a campaign against the neglect and abuse of India’s huge population of street children. But its major infirmity is that it is recounted as a breathless narrative of episodes and adventures in quick succession. There is a conspicuous dearth of analysis of the causative factors proliferation of street children. Surely Aparna who heads the NGO Sharan would have some macro level explanation? To accept the status quo as the natural order of things is suggestive of excessive pessimism if not a morality. Moreover Pestonji seems oblivious of the reality that some street children have — with a little help from NGOs and social workers — risen from the streets and gone on great things. A note of optimism could have retrieve the gloom which pervades the novel.
Also towards the end, Pestonji seems to lose the thread of the narrative and veers into a denunciation of communalism, making a passing reference to the Gujarat riots of 2002. This is a rather unnecessary inclusion and strikes a jarring chord which is out of sync with the major issues the novel confronts — homelessness, drug addiction, child marriage and sex tourism.
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