Manikanta runs away

Manikanta is a 10-year old boy whose home is on the far outskirts of Hebbal. He used to study at a local school. He could not get books and writing material for school and thought it was best to quit school. A few months ago, his mother threatened him for the third time that she will kill him if he does not go to school. Seeing no better option, the kid left home without notice and ended up on the streets of Bangalore. A kind looking man picked him up with a promise of giving him computer education. Manikanta’s life seemed set. But the man used the boy for menial work instead, until Manikanta realised that he had to flee that place too. He landed up at a hostel for rehabilitation of kids, somewhere off Silk board and lived there for a while. One fine day he met a woman who was nice to him and treated him well. So he went with her to stay at her place. When he returned to the hostel to meet an old friend, he was told that the hostel was shut down. He walked back as far as he could, hitching rides from passersby in the dead of the night. On one such hitch, he met a guy wearing a blue shirt.

I had a nice relaxed Saturday evening with a bunch of friends which ended in a late dinner. I was riding back home as fast as I could that I nearly overlooked a little boy on the left asking for a ride. I took him on and had a chat with him on the way. When the conversation got too intrusive for the kid, he said he was headed in a different direction and would like to get down. I humoured him and did so, but continued with the conversation since the whole scene seemed oddly odd.

Manikanta found it easier to confess to me that he was a runaway rather than continue lying. I heard him out till he had nothing else to say. I realised that there was a good chance he was still faking everything, but he had definitely run away from home, for whatever reason. He told me he still wanted to go to school. I talked to him further and made him understand all the perspectives of his situation from every angle, and got him to analyse what his future would be in all paths possible. I let him come to the conclusion that he should do the right thing. As a litmus test, I gave him a little jazz of inspiration and etc, and offered him money. He refused. I felt happy. I left my number with him instead (from pen and paper borrowed from a passing cop) and asked him to call me after he’s made a decision of what he chose. The boy now looked like a man with a purpose.

It was time, to go home.

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