Sarfaraz and Rajan

Once upon a time there was a zealous 23 year old, eager to start working and be a small part of the change she wanted to see around her.

She volunteered at a slum for one month, spending her days with the kids there, helping them prepare for a community event that an NGO was trying to put together.

Amongst the 30 odd kids in the room, two 10-year old boys stood out to her. Sarfaraz and Rajan. They were the best of friends while their family background couldn’t be more different.

One from a well-knit cohesive nuclear family caring deeply for each other and striving to raise their odds of success in life,.  The boy was a bright student, well-dressed, gentle and loving.

The other came from a house where the father married multiple times. Surrounded by step sibings and missing his mother, the boy had a wild streak and a razor-sharp mind.

Their friendship was unique. The common bond seemed to be their love for learning. Boy, were they hungry to learn.

I adored Sarfarz and Rajan. And I think they liked me alright too. We spent many hours together, practicing for their performance for the event. They welcomed me to their home and we once went on an outing to the science museum together with my mother. They were thrilled. So was I. My parents were scared for me, uncertain about the waters I was charting.

I moved on to my professional life. Sarfarz and Rajan managed to keep in touch.  They had my parent’s landline number and would call my mother to find out contact details as I changed numbers and cities.

Their slum was relocated some 70 kms away from city centre in a drive to beautify the city area. It disrupted their families. One was sent off to Hyderabad to work in a leather unit with his cousin. The other’s mother was forced to return to her village while the men tried to make ends meet in the city.  Going to school meant a 3 hour commute each way, changing multiple buses and lots of walking. None of them managed to complete their high school.

And then they stopped calling. I don’t know how to get in touch with them and probably don’t have the courage to.

I had the chance to touch their lives and I didn’t live up to it.  I am too snug in my cocoon. I wonder what it will take to make me snap out of it.

I do miss you, my little brothers. Call your Didi, will you?