I was sitting on one of the benches near the Rajiv Chowk Metro Gate no. 4. Waiting for a friend to show up.

“Sir, boot polish?”

THAT was Jayesh.

“My boots seem pretty neat, don’t they?”

“Sir, Please!”

After looking at that little kid, I had the same mixed emotions, those similar bowel movements I mentioned earlier, and… well, you know the deal. A brief loss of objectivity later, I asked Jayesh to sit down beside me. He did. A short conversation later, I had gotten the figures from him: He earned roughly 20 rupees on each pair of shoes that he polished, and got 7–10 customers a day. On probing further, he told me that even though he was admitted to a government primary school, he didn’t go there too often.

“See, Jayesh. You need to go to school. Not just to study, but to learn a few things. Why don’t you?”

“Because my dad insists that school won’t be of much help if we can’t manage 2 square meals a day for now.”

I had no response to that.

“Do you want to keep doing what your Dad’s doing?”

“I haven’t thought of that sir”

“Why? Don’t you have dreams?”

“Dreams are expensive, sir.”

Those words rung louder than he intended. No words from me. None, at, all…

Few blank moments later, I further asked, “What do you love to do?”

“I love drawing.” He answered as he looked at 2 of his other friends, much older than him, observing us from a distance.

“Sir, let me go, sir. They will tell my dad I wasn’t working. You don’t want to get your boots polished, it seems.”

“I will pay you, don’t worry,” I said.

“Why not get me a Coke instead? Otherwise, those guys will ask for their share of the money as well,” he said excitedly.

I looked at my phone to see the text I had just received.

‘It will take me at least 30 more minutes. The traffic is pretty bad.’

I turned to Jayesh, “Let’s go for a walk.”

He nodded in approval. We reached the nearest stationary shop, and I bought a pair each of drawing book, pencil, sharpener, and eraser. I handed him over one of each and said, “I too loved drawing when I was your age.”

When I saw that he wasn’t excited, I said, “Don’t worry, you’ll get your coke for sure!” He laughed and I could instantly see the sparkle in his eyes that I was looking forward to. God, it felt good!

That poor kid surgically touched my heart. A poor kid who hardly had anything to look forward to every morning. A kid whose parents had already given up on his dreams. A kid who was learning from his parents to do the same.

My phone vibrated with a message notification in my pocket. I snapped it out to check out the text:

‘I know it has already taken me half an hour. I am about to arrive. The cab shows 15 mins as ETA.’

I and Jayesh sat down on one of the nearby benches as he sipped on the bottle of coke. “Could you wait for a bit? I’ll be back soon,” I asked.

“I have to get back to my work. Can only wait for a few minutes, sir.”

“Okay. Just wait.” I rushed.

I came back to find him sitting right there, rubbing the ground with one of his bare toes. I handed him over the box I had brought along.

As I walked away to receive my friend, I turned back once.

He opened the box to find the pair of sneakers I had bought for him. It was a small purchase from the flea market nearby that made him sport a grin wider than the price tag on those shoes. He looked at me with gleaming eyes as I waved him a goodbye.