The Cherubic Face

I was standing in the queue to buy a railway ticket when my eyes struck upon an angelic face, the kind of face that is seen on drawings and in mythological serials depicting Lord Krishnas and Lord Ramas, when they're infants. A cute little baby boy, no more than 4 months old, lying on a lap, very happy, very content. He was neither crying, nor making any kind of bawling sounds that babies are known for. He was enjoying himself, shaking his hands and legs, lying where he was, on the lap of a "Beggarwoman"!

This whole scene appalled me. I couldn't believe that this pretty child was borne by that particular woman. While this boy was fair, cute and charming, the "supposed mother" was hideous, repulsive and dirty. I knew for sure that the child was not hers. It is true that all babies are pretty creatures but this is not the first time I'm seeing a mendicant's child (I hate myself to have even coined that phrase for that little one). There was another boy of 4 or 5, playing next to the woman, who was similar in all respects to the mother, but not the one lying in her lap.

I was terribly depressed at the fate of that little one. I presumed that he might've been born to some other mother but because of some ill luck, was having his fate written by the hands which waved a tattered bowl at the onlookers. I felt like snatching the baby from those hands and do whatever was possible from my side to provide a better life to that child, but what if the kid really was that woman's son?

A concoction of emotions was flooding inside me. My eyes never stopped gazing that graceful face even as I was moving forward in the queue. When I finally got to the ticket counter, I bought my ticket for Rs. 9, got back the 1 rupee change for the 10 rupees I had tendered. While heading to the platform, I dropped that 1 re. coin into that tattered bowl which that beautiful boy would soon learn to use. Unable to look at that precious face one last time, I walked away dreadfully melancholic.